and even more after I die.
So… when I’m not busy surviving the torture artists of eternity, I’m busy surviving the torture artists of eternity that want me to stoke my own ego and then when I’m not surviving them, I’m surviving the torture artists that break through that actually try to do legit work coinciding with my work and the greater good. Haven’t had much time to actually pursue making the world a better place; which is good, because the truth states that that’s a wasted activity given what I know and what people think I had to learn of the world around me.
I’ve only been saying for years that the corrupt run and ruin the world. It’s in every aspect of our lives; every corner of our world, including what was supposed to be the last wild west frontier before we went into outer space, but it hurried and got a hold on even the internet where, for years; over a decade, I have played the martyr for so many aspects of legion and what wants to tear limb from limb everyone who actually wishes to stand for something greater than their maniacal, short-sighted schemes that rely on too many dreamers that they mistreat and then milk for ideas and good sentiments as much as they can before discarding like so much excess and wasted material.
I just really don’t think that those corrupted ones; the same ones that saw fit to tell me I needed to get out and see what the world was like; quite understand or fathom any mind that doesn’t buckle and bend to their will or coincide with something they can actually use for their purposes. They can’t actually see the point of why anyone would see something through to the end of their life for more than fate and destiny and lacking a choice. But, with choice, with free will, to see through to the end of life a path that leads only to tragedy and death and to do it not to spread further misery, but to lift high golden dreams that they call wasted ideals… They just don’t want to get it, and beyond just not wanting to get it, refuse to try to even wrap their heads around it without making fun of it or dissing it or trying to knock it down.
Well, here goes round ‘who-gives-a-fuck-what-round-it-is’; me back in black and blue, my favorite colors of wardrobe. Johnny Cash may have taken pride in being a man in black up ahead of those in mourning and the downtrodden and beaten down. I figured, ahead of that, there’s got to be a man in back and blue that’s taking the actual beatings.
Let’s see how deep this rabbit hole goes before they’re able to get that bullet through my head.
Bang will be the sound of my brains hitting the asphalt. If they’re lucky and have a psychic on hand, they might even be able to get a reading of their own futures from the blood and gristle and tough textures of the brain; like lobster flesh. I know there’s a word for it, but I don’t care to google it. or bing it. or yahoo it. anyone remember that Lycos search engine? The ones that preceded modern search engines monopolizing peoples searching needs.
Time to get back up again, dust off my cavalier attitude; it’ll never be shiny again, but the dust! grrrr. It’s hard to maintain war gear these days, I tell you what.
Back to our eternal dance.
our eternal romance.