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Have mine eyes seen Too Much? I fear so. In the Green Zones, one can still live life as a Lark, safely cocooned from Encroaching Realities. Don't get me wrong, I begrudge them not any laughter, joy, Love or healing still to be found on this cruel, miserable orb. I too wish to live, I too yearn to live carefree in the Green Zones and I too ache for shelter from our Wounding Wars. Enviously, I look upon those Souls who count among their gravest worries the fanciness of their shoes. Then I remember last month's Food Riots in the Outlands.
The world is a Criminal Enterprise. Profits count, People don't - which puts us in the Untenable Position as a race of not mattering. Sheer Insanity. So no matter how deeply I burrow into the Green Zone comforts, I can't forget the Tragedies I've witnessed. I can't forget the Men With Guns, the Raped Women or the Mutilated Children. These images are Seared into my mind. Green Zoners know these abominations exist - and thus devote their lives to Avoiding them - which is a Death Wish.
We may perish as a planet, I understand that, but our Dreams - unspoken or not - will live on forever, floating through the Universe as timeless reminders of our existence, Eternal Echos of love never shared.
I have found the True Enemy: Rational Thought. I used to think people were being Attacked and Savaged for who or what they were. But it's clear now: anyone at anytime who speaks a Rational Thought receives instantaneous Rebuke and Retribution. The Irrationalists squeal in deafening pain the moment a True Word is spoken. Their Howling gives no quarter to the offender; it's a wailing as if hot coals were placed upon these Liars' foreheads. Rational thought is Unbearable because they know it means Doom for them.
When you see Evil win day after day, when you see it Grow In Authority and Power, you start to wonder: why do I still honor the Truth? It seems as if truth has No Meaning! The liars grow bolder, crawling out of the Dark, declaring death is Life. Mockers still exist to Mock such insanity, but their Voices are fading. For you see, if death is not life then we must Change the road we're on.
And that's where we draw the line. The faces of my fellow Centaurians sag with the Heavy Weight they carry and I know the Resentment that brings. This resentment is Viral, with fuses shortening over time until Hair Trigger Responses exact instant outrage upon any light that Shines upon their Idiocy.
These are Dangerous Times and I too am afraid to speak of honest feelings.
The Clock is ticking as the beat grows Louder. You can see it in their eyes. The desperate clutching onto the last Shreds of Life before the well runs dry. Officially, we are not allowed to admit we are coming to The End. We are not supposed to believe our eyes and ears but instead put our faith into Wishful Thinking that an Answer will appear. Funny thing is, there really is an answer: admit we're fucking up and Change.
It is said that to be cut off from Love is as to be cut off from Air. Which means For A Time, you can survive but the window is short. We are in that Window now. Seeing No Tomorrow, the restraints are dissolving. They ask what's the point of Preserving that which is soon to be destroyed? An Unwritten Rule is forming giving blessing to any grab for the Good Life any way you can. In the Back Rooms, men are manipulating profits without conscience, maiming the lives of millions to benefit only themselves. And there is no Outrage from this.
Those whose lives that have not yet been rendered to merely a Struggle For Survival have surrended to Excess. Consume food, sex, any form of life you find - Consume it before it's too late. They declare themselves Hip for this admittance of our destruction but who is that parties when Eternal Blackness is the price? They consider those who pursure the Endless Dream as deluded fools chasing something that can never be. And thusly they Accept the coming of Eternal Blackness - and it is they who shall Never Be.
Eternal Blackness will come, and with it, Eternal Regret.
He was a man driven to Madness. I'm sure I'll be meeting More. His mind snapped from Perpetual Fear, his spirit soon followed from Biting Despair. When the Illusion of Civilization and the Veneer of Care had been ripped from his eyes, the Ugly Reality was too much strain. He retreated into a tormented world of his own in order to escape a Tormented World.
I managed to calm him (with some effort) and I found he had taken on a fool's occupation: an Honest Reporter. He said he had uncovered a Great Crime sure to do harm to us all and yet, no one cared. The reporter Crusaded Valiantly but the powers-that-be merely impugned him and smeared his name. But he was Salty and his Will strong. He further proved his point by finding deeper crimes of destruction but as he spread the word the Final Horror dawned on him: all was Apathy. Shrugged Shoulders dismissed him saying, "Reality is whatever we say it is."
I too once spoke the truth and was Crucified for it so I knew the Man's pain. He'd had his Faith in his fellow man torn asunder and that he could not Survive. I tried to Console him on this our Dying Planet and the Failure of his fellow man on whom we depend. I spoke of one day when Justice would come to set things right and we would Blossom once again.
"When?" he barked. "When we're all dead?"
I told him it would be a time of no reporters, for everyone would already know the Truth. His brow unfurrowed and he gave me a Weak Smile, slowly daring to Believe as he walked away.
It's a Curse to bless a Dying Planet. And it's a Blessing to curse a Dying Planet. Welcome to the Age of the Pervert King, who boldly walks down the well manicured streets blessing our destructive ways and calling our evil good. Like Hopeless Puppets we all must applaud when he says we are great and we all must deride the one who calls us anything but Holy. As Fear and Gnawing Guilt overtake us, the Pervert King comes to soothe us and remove the pain of our common enemy: Reality. Never before has he reached such popularity or been so highly courted. Today is the pervert's Finest Hour.
But no hate is too much hate for Truth Tellers who make us Look Bad. For this Unforgivable Crime we brazenly proclaim our righteous outrage and how never should such behavior be Tolerated. Surely the Zealotry of our hatred proves the merits of our Goodness. I heard a Propagandist talk about how in the old days we were a "primitive and ignorant people", his implication being that now we are Smart Enough To Sin and thusly incapable of destroying our home.
But I have a feeling our ancient counterparts would look upon us with Confusion. Why is it, they ask, do we put poison in our Air, Land and Water? Why is it we do not live as One so that we may survive? Why is it we so ruthlessly and dogmatically worship a god that does not Profit us? I too would love to know the answer to these questions. Yes, we have found technology - but lost Our Way.
For far too many, only Death will suffice as Proof of our Wrong-headedness.
To find Peace in a world gone Mad, you must find a place of Abandonment. I walk in silence down this oily, dirt road, its fine dust stained by Careless Processes and Industrial Haste. With the life soaked out and the land suffocated with Metal Fatigue, I can't live here for long. And yet, only in this place do I Breathe. The Exploiters and Reapers won't come back here. I am safe inside the Abscess of their extractions.
Begrudgingly allowing a few slits of Sunshine, the machine room rules in glorious Disrepair. Without the Frantic Humans to tend and worship it, it carries all the Disdain of a fallen god. A single red diode blinks intermittently, the Lonely Sentinel of an ancient monitoring system. No one told it Time was up and the human worship would Move On. For that which has been branded Useless, no quarter is granted. And God help the humans Branded us such.
Riding a giant Tidal Wave, we have Peered over the world from Heights never before seen. Our Fruitful Ways, we said, will go on Forever. But all waves are Artificial and must eventually Crash. Eventually the Hunters will find me even here. The Day of the Dictator is returning and they who support it know that is Wrong. For this reason, they must wipe out Dissent. The Power Lords see the wave is waning, and as Desperation clutches their throats, they Scramble to gather all resources to themselves. My Hungry Mouth will be seen only as a Liability.
But in the end, when the Final Crash of the wave comes, no one will be Spared.
