My body, brain, every cell and atom wish to take a break from the song and dance routine and things conspire against the whole organism that I am to fuck me over completely. Performing the illusion of the perpetual motion device that is never not moving, things even infiltrate my cells and atoms and body parts in part or full to force them to work every which way they can. If you ever learn that you can stop completely without dying, just like experiencing other things that I’ve experienced, the very stark difference between them and the rest of your life removes all doubt and disbelief and at the point of learning that you can stop completely without dying and just enjoy the day somewhere without thinking about anything, just perceiving, viewing, etc., it’s like, yes, technically I am still in motion then, but it’s a relaxed motion of being at peace, the body is motionless, parts of it are still working to maintain bodily functions like processing foods, they can’t stop growing just the same as shedding dead skin cells as new ones are made to replace them, just the same, the brain never stops in awake mode, only in complete sleep do you experience the ‘pure’ nothingness that many wish follows after death. That’s all I’m asking for, not in excess; but I’ve been a starving man in a wasteland of a desert surrounded by people who have had an easier time of things and even when things bring pleasant things, pleasant visions, move toward ‘helping’ me with my ongoing hobby of fix what’s fucked up with the world, they’re still forcing my movement, forcing my involvement, refusing to acknowledge that I need a fucking break not just from my hobby, not just from my enemies, but them, too; and the fact is that in my pursuit of a sustained and lasting true peace in society and humanity, even those helpers, at all other times that they aren’t frantically worried that I’ll quit for good, are still my fucking enemies.
To just sit back on a sunny day, using my pack as a pillow and pulling my beanies or hoody over my eyes enough to shade from the sun and just doing absolutely nothing. No imagining things, enjoying the darkness behind the eyes, or opening them and enjoying the aesthetic value of the world around me; nothing bringing me visions or thoughts or trying to trick my body into thinking it’s acting on it’s own; it knows better.
The worst part is, in Redding, CA where I still am, it has rained more in the past few months, hard, than I’m sure it has in the past 5 years combined, at the least. And, even though it’s not my fault, I know it’s because I’m here and the things that plague me are at fault and to blame for their continued enslavement of all that is good, their continued robbery and assault of all that people deserve and the best of people as they are forced by an autonomous bullshit artist collective to bend to all the wrong things.
Color me the greatest criminal of all kind just for cutting to the point and calling it out. Color me the clown with a red nose and big floppy shoes just for cutting the idle chit-chat to shreds, dispensing with the talking for days about the thought of doing something and actually just getting shit done. Paint me as the mastermind of existence simply for doing in such a short amount of time what all the con artists and bullshitters and feet-draggers have whined about for eternities and it has taken them eternities to do for it. Just by doing, I have somehow mastered something they have not, yet when they ‘do’, when they act, they destroy everything no matter what they do, even in their idle chit-chat, even in their talking for days and weeks just about the thought of doing things, in their faulty compromises that they then try to force on everyone outside of their small little groups and pretend that they were rightfully elected or chosen by the majority of others.
And I’m not even discussing politics or major world-wide organizations. I’m talking about places even like this, games even like the walking dead for touch-screen phones and tablets, World of Warcraft. Everywhere. Their desolation is complete. They didn’t have to fight hard for it, what they had to fight hard for through eternity as they whined and dragged their feet like petulant children just not wanting to do right, just not wanting to learn how to do things properly, was a freedom that isn’t even a freedom. The freedom to do whatever the fuck they want without consequence so they can treat others like shit and not destroy everything and just live like royalty the way THEY think royalty should be, even though they haven’t deserved it? Even if they had surpassed eternity, had earned it in a past one, or cut it down to simple life by life reincarnation, same concept; aren’t we as a fucked up society, if we applied it to that, would be right to say then in that context, ‘what the fuck have you done recently you piece of fucking shit that’s just continuing to fuck up an already fucked up world.’
I have such great work ethic just for wanting to get shit done and out of the way so I can enjoy my time better. Nobody really likes chores. I have such great skill for doing it in such a short amount of time because I don’t waste time by whining and trying to drag it out over a week or a month just to get out of it. They spend a week to a month doing that, I get done what they drag heels on in 1-4 hours. Oh, then I have time to actually go and do things that I enjoy. No fucking shit, what a great way of doing things. And, for this, I am the worst criminal in existence. For supporting this way of life, I am forced to have to kill at times, at other times simply forced to have to prove that I can kill if necessary. For this, I have to fight so many contestants, so many competitors, second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year; and they marvel at my staying power, my stamina and endurance, my ability to get back up even after the heavy knockdowns, as if I had a fucking choice. They stand in awe at my heart, my soul; my undying passion and then they crow when I break, or they used to, wonder at the fact, now, that I never seem to break and then marvel at the fact that when they keep knocking me down, when they reduce it back down, again, to impossible odds, how I break again, yet in a way, now, that strikes fear in them and presses them to the wall with their backs against it.
I’m done. Not done trying to make the world better, just done. I’m not going to ‘die’ again for their pleasure; I’m not going back to walking dead fashion of a zombie for them to make fun of or to delight at my apathy and feast on my anger, rage, frustration and hopelessness, helplessness. The fact that I feast on them, now, and openly, only makes me a worse criminal and the hypocrites are quick to call me on it. Here I am, one of the nicest motherfuckers you could ever meet, one of the fairest who wouldn’t try to fuck you over and admitting that things can still grab me up in a moment to cause me to do so, forced to look like one of the most evil; one of the most heinous, for the pleasure of the twisted viewing audience that wants to try to convince itself it’s doing good and right. Forced to look like the worst criminal in existence, and to wit, I am, as I work my ass off to take it out of them as they incite themselves and each other to further bullshit. For this, I am the greatest mass murderer of eternity, the greatest thief, the greatest betrayer, the greatest sinner and yet I claim the paradox of being without sin, being without crime and put forth the reason that not just justifies it, but confirms it legitly.
