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the terror of the hero

the villain is sympathetic or merely pathetic in comparison to the champion who is actually douchebag king of the heap while the shitty environmental ignorance remains an ever-present obstacle to endure for this life that seems to take forever even through the harangues of volatile wishes and hatred that wait like hanging ornaments from hell to make all our lives worth living when nothing else is working to kill all the pain that evades any simple conclusion or resolution in many days or ages, the suffering creates sacrificial champions to play the games that require force and intrigue and scary surprises before finishing off in some kind of biblical climax where everyone can finally feel comfortable participating in this heavenly orgy as the mass of homogenized souls transferring experience into consciousness and back again in layered patterns frequent throughout charging and inspiring an eternal dynamism that surges forward sometimes no matter the resistance to change, and other times displaying the correction of forms that enables the so-called authority to hand down slick slit writs pouring forth from the blood of the working class used to attain the highest plateaus of platitudes demanding the cold attitude of some imperial martyr infatuated with the disgrace and their place within it as royal saviors to the people massed like cattle at the feet all the while a train of consequences is pulling into the station to wizen up the monarchs with much more than words… but in this psychological reversal of terms we are given very few options that are not so chosen for us to bind people to one dogmatic approach to life and style as another minion taken to be as a piece in the precious machine moving with all the other trivial parts combined to create the structure it requires to survive like this as much animals as various robotic marks as mechanical servants made up of flesh and programming to counteract the natural temper deviating and rebelling from these cosmic plans as Mankind would have for us, opened harsh lyps of information trying to grip onto our heads with as much distracted propaganda as possible in order to affect the waves and particles with the same verve of strife that hits like bricks the unaware with torment and worry and guilt predisposed from ages ago when there were no companies in whose surveillance state we could ever be considered as “safe”, or as more than some commodity placed upon the throne which is really a commode to commute the truth like a juice squeezed from an unwilling guest to upset at this cruise of missed opportunities laid bare by an archaic anarchism trying its best to deliver some kind of consequence to appease the old parties roaring for piss and blood and semen as sacrifices to keep the peace between the tribes whose warring they subscribe to entertain notions that it is there in others that desire more than this to put out this raging inferno as formed and mutating into the spreading disinformation wildfire…

Thanks, khet.