Woe be it to the masses who translate the pangs of oppression into words of Torah!

I mean… how many are there out there who figure themselves participants in some painful pre-life prequel? And how many nurture that notion? So many dreamers… All shuffling through nightmare checkpoints, living out unfulfilling lifetime after unfulfilling lifetime, figuring that in due time there shall come an awakening into the full, armor plated consciousness of heroes and angels.

So many dopy, cabin cruising smiles, so many blood encrusted teeth. Everybody’s just swimming in their delusions about this demonic abomination of humanity’s evolutionary strong point, everybody’s figuring that the Hell created by their own hands is nothing more than an over-loud and painfully squelching sound check. The main event must be on its way… they say. Perhaps when God once more walks the Earth we shall then wake up…

I’m sick of people thinking that this pregnancy can be birthed through prayer alone! I cringe because my personal awakening has been stifled and aborted by this surrogate swarm of blind highway crawlers… It’s disgusting… I’m ashamed to call these people members of my species! These people are abominations of a divine creation. Nobody even wonders about escape… Everyone’s being dragged by the crowd through these dark rooms of our illusionary empire, going deeper into the fog of ignorance, sinking so progressively into the ghettos of reality.

It’s all a grand circle jerk held together by men who have learned to get off on oppression… A collaboration of blasphemers, a select few sitting high up in an ivory tower, beating the dead horses of our hearts with one hand while the other hand strokes the stockbroker or the CEO or the government official or the foreign emissary next door. Our life force is being jizzed away into a crumpling wad of wasteful trash… Our escape port is shrinking as their dicks rise… The sickness can be birthed almost anywhere within almost anyone. People wearing the same slave faces as the rest of us are handed a horse whip and told they can pass on the beating if they will pass along the message. America’s got a bad case of the devil inside of her… America is a nation flying a huge, invisible flag of burning order flames and hatred into a world only wanting peace and repose. Nobody can be comfortable, because there’s a voice in our radios telling us to fill our calendars with things other than indolence, telling us all to become Nazzis… We have a world of Nazzis. A martial land. Privates and officers in every home. Only the bodiless master, the ruler of Earth, feels the comforts of this terror reich. Everyone else is fucked… Moloch issues out its commands, finding everything entertaining, building skyscrapers to its magnificence, trickling his orders down a ladder system of tortured souls, feasting upon our woes…

It is a spirit of black madness which has descended upon us… The world which once was our home has been snatched away and replaced by an inescapable advertisement. Christ has been stolen from Christmas. Every day has become a Black Friday. It is a Stanford Prison Experiment without an exit. It is an arena of painful labor. Material objects have become carrots for the rat race. Stocking stuffers, smart phones, high definition television programs, and anal feeding tubes of shit have turned us into untouchables, savages, pigs fattening up for the grand feast, Hansel and Gretel in the candy shack… We are doped up veal bags drooling into the trading pit. Our neighborhood is a Wall Street trading floor. We are the commodity. It’s a grand feast of cannibalism! The ever present managerial staff is leaning its minstrel stand of smiles closer to the slave line, pondering over dark meat or light meat, blessing the feast with catchy jingles. Critical thinking has gone out the window and been replaced by propaganda paths. The machine is run automatically. Nobody can stop it… Spartacus is getting a knife wheedled deeper into his ribs. He has been taken from his sequel. He is bleeding his guts out with cancer. There is nobody to stand up and proclaim his name. We are left alone without a hero. God is dead. The fingers of corporations are left uninhibited to pick us apart. And we’re whistling ourselves silly scrubbing bubbles over our ball sacks, pushing our testicles further up into our urethras, trying to look presentable to the hedonistic stomachs of our demon overlords. Everyone wants a receipt slung around their neck. And try as I might I can’t throw up anywhere, because Anne Frank’s hiding in this corner, and the police are watching every other one…