Alpha Mike Foxtrot (the gunbunny manifesto)
This world issued a cease and desist on dreams. This is a call for resistance.
Uncle Samael wants you.
Breathe the divine wind. Hold a wish to fall a pernicious height and smash to bits and music like glass, a desire to be smoke that pulls at your nerve endings.
Sense the power and opportunity to end the life next to you.
Know a purposelessness that invites disorder ( ..idle hands are the devil’s plaything.. ) , a taste of poison in your mouth. A feel of dissolution.
Understand that freedom is the engine of chaos. Start your engine.
Dream of worlds on fire.
We have things to do.
You will be commissioned with the shutdown of hope. Kill the idea that it will be alright, somehow, in time.
We will not wait.
We will charge.
We will set off the demolition of convention. Bend and brake the rules into signposts in the dark. Become pioneers.
We’ll arrive at the shores of the unknown not conquerors but explorers and archeologists.
Our enemy is legion.
Our enemy is them and they have us surrounded. Look around. See the fear and blankness in their eyes. Long dead and in boxes, long before the formalities of the grave.
They were murdered in infancy, as were their parents and their parents before them. By their parents. By their teachers. By those they trusted most. Torn apart and sewn back together from dead ideas and disease ridden superstitions. From the corpses of those that came before. They are Frankensteins thing, dragging about aimlessly, scrounging for a painless afterlife.
And if they can, they will kill you.
Remove from you all that makes you suffer, makes you laugh, makes you breathe, makes you vital, makes you, you.
And make you them.
We are not a battalion.
This call to arms calls on you to be your own army.
None will follow, lead or cover you.
And you will die fighting.
Your passing will go unremarked.
Your deeds unsung.
Your name unremembered.
And there is no other fight.
No other fighter.
No other time.
But that’s just life.