The sweet sound of a whispering siren tantalizes the ears, the mind, with a lovely harmonious syllabic structure. What is time but a series of small eternities. The pretend meaning of dreams and hopes all ready to be made coarse and raw with a careless pen. The horrible timeless burning desire is unquenchable, a thirst that would make a heroin addict blush with humility. The self control is as terrible of a cure as it can be.
Violence against the weaker sex has always been a mystery. A marine beats his girlfriend to death because he is too weak against the monsters in his own head. A coward, a sentinel forewarning against a second set of discarded husks of humanity. A second set? That is a hollow construction, dusty and vacant. Just a noticeable wave in the endless flow of broken dolls. They will exist until they are eradicated but their refuge is within the weak and stupid. Again inaction binds the strong against the mass amorphous, all surrounding consuming stifling smothering pinning prison flesh. A sharp knife is needed, wielded with murderous precision and surgical intent. Excision is impossible when worthlessness has metastasized.
Chaos has a great love for our type of existence. We stand divided, some for order, some undecided and the rightful ones embracing, loving it as a thoughtlessly as a child. Chaos squats and revels in the disagreement, pendulous labia brushing aside any careless enough to tempt her. One small seed from her randomised ovaries and free will spreads its roots, flowering with glorious speed and symmetry. While a careful scholar would study one of her dainty, towering toes, a servant would bask in her full glory. Symmetrical, ordered chaos, neatly packaged for quick distribution. Pandora's seed packet, the magic beans forever forgotten.
Freedom is a loaded word, cocked and ready to be mishandled by the inexperienced. The television would be painted red in a matter of moments. The commies ejaculated on your daughter's breasts. The effort was admirable, but 'such a waste' they argued; economically, perhaps, but not spiritually. Freedom of association aspires to acidity, bonds broken before they were cemented. The lime of reality too strong for anything interesting to set. Keep moving, keep busy, the cement mixer of life. Free time is the father of boredom. Boredom is a studious uninteresting fellow, except he can teach you how to make methylated amphetamines from kitchen cleaners. A bored population is not exceptionally dangerous, until they associate into a critical mass. Keep the customer satisfied, keep them kept and entertain them into a delirium of apathy.
Replete with meaning and firepower, the gas operated machine in her hand makes her beauty ugliness, but her savagery touches deeply. The wild lust in her eyes mimics a faint heart ache. The idea would be worth dying for if it were tangible. Melancholy is sand in the gut for a powerful actor. Who was that tattooed beauty? She was a zephyr of the mind, one further step in a line of perfection. The perfection ends when the mind dies. The idea out-paces reality, laughing with exhilaration, a wonderful dream. She smiles as she kills and it is infectious. The disease is wonderful, a fever that burns a person whole again.
There was a dream of the cessation of reality. All of the subatomic fogs into clarity of perception. The quickness of time slows to a gridlock, and you see, for a lonely second, exactly who you are. This is the moment when dreams pass into reality. They sat patiently, waiting, ideas wanting to become flesh, but they have lain impotent, improperly addressed and improperly expressed. They want freedom from the sphere of thought and to make themselves new forms entirely. Dreams are jealous things and their fulfillment is the only concern. With their release, they take on their true forms, and the world and reality as we know it are over.
A new age will have begun, one where imagination and strength of will become the new superpowers of this dream age. When such power is accessible, rulers will cry in voices shrill and fearful. This is the moment that has baited the powerful since the inception of the rule of humans. That which makes their hearts palpate, the changing of rule, the carefree disregard of every law of physics, not a cessation of existence, but nevertheless an apocalypse.
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