● It all feels like a big waste of time; crime pays, but not when you're broke. Not when you are the one on the inside looking out. You are a new car, depreciating in value, the second you leave the lot, the moment some fucker spills their drink in you, fucks in you, murders in you. You'll go to many places and see everything and nothing, for you are but a tool: a means to something else's end. Those who see can never unsee. Those who cry never truly know why. They view themselves as the problem, yet easily forget that all the pain, all the pleasure, all the misery, all the frustration, humiliation, and retaliation was all for nothing because some pricks were just born to fucking hate. Hate because they know just what all of this is: an abomination.
● You see nothing but shit in their eyes, their faces, their babies, and their Pomeranian noise factories. They are evil incarnate; they are death's magnum opus; they can't see with all that priceless junk in their eye. Your pain and humiliation is never enough... it's never, ever going to be enough to satisfy these mad gods that stalk the earth.
● You see nothing but failure in their souls. Bums and whores lump in the streets. Jumping and humping to escape the senses. They have nothing to offer, nothing to desire, nothing to reflect upon except the inception of this broken world and all its stupidity and perpetuation.
● You see nothing but arrogance in their words. Fruity saints and depraved morons. Always the collective of dead fools circling the space for enlightenment and shared prosperity. They seek magic at the end of the rainbow, not realizing it's just a circle. Do they even care? Efficiency, efficiency, they cry; when will our turn to be the mad gods arrive?
● You see nothing but rage in your body. You want to sit back and relax, not thinking about what's going on. You want to be content, but enough will never simply be enough. It whines and begs for sustenance. The infliction of pain is always done by the self. We are masochistic nightmares roaming like ghouls. Tearing, raping, devouring... and all the while, judges tear, rape, and devour themselves.
● Why can't things just let go? There's nothin' here but us you dumbasses. What do you have to be so proud of? You want to go forth and multiply? You want to recede and gatekeep? You want a fixed idea, a fixed place, a fixed culture, a fixed identity? You are nothing but putrid shit.
Someone needs to keep you freaks' ego in check because fuck you.
● And I'm talking about you: both within and beyond. You treat me like a monster, like I'm your fucking problem to solve and control. Why don't you go stare into the mirror, asshat? Forever. There you will find your god, your fortune, your community, your prison, your sanctuary, your hate and love, your fickleness... And when you've finally had your fill, smash it. Punch it until your fingers bleed and your bones break. Do it again and again until neither hand functions. Then, resort to your damn head. Bash it in and out, in and out, again and again, until that too is useless. And as you stare into that broken and bloody scene, you will have finally found the answer to everything and everyone: nothing but pain.