Dark bruises on the illusion of progress
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
By *CAPTAIN_AUSTRALIA*
Bones and skeletons crack and splinter under theimpact of ruthless power. Fear transcends hope.
Craven terror can get no darker than this.
The subhumans crucified their love dolls with an
intricate mechanical hypnosis of great thickness.
Slices of hostile shadow now stalk the dim lights
of young hope. Bags of ritual silica gel
efficiently dehydrate our souls. We need not
create a portal to Hell.
The corporate slave has become harmless, and now
knows without regret that forcible lobotomy is the
terminal stage of fawning conformity. He has
survived a dark malignancy of false information in
a hospital for the tangible facts. His brain
survived years in a large bottle. I respond with
indifference to the absence of feelings his face
expresses.
Contorted and weird dimensions of pointlessness
are heard above the roar of the damned. The
significance of the economic oppressions adds
spice to the hypothesis that spirituality would be
disobedience toward nihilism's bizarre concepts.
The only space I can claim as my own has been
banished from Heaven for no particular cause or
reason. I cannot find relief in this flea circus
of human abnormality, and there is no point crying
out for forgiveness and redemption, because no one
answers. My confinement within this refuge from
corruption and belligerance is unfashionable.
In our dreams, we are faced with the
contradictions of traditional mystical beliefs and
we must live in expectation of miserable losses.
The transition from personal beliefs to
constructive cynicism is a comfort when I am
unable to sleep. I dream of blood.
The Devil mutilated and killed Freud with obscene
brutality. His flesh turned to food for the
parasites of darkness. From his mouth shall spill
the darkness downwind. A dim chill of permanent
night.
Dark granite blocks build a castle of defeat. The
rubble of our lives, the triumph of death,
eternity in Hell. So very nice to come home to.
