Rizzo The Nihilizo

Friday, March 26, 3666




Enter into the most sinister corners of your decadent soul:

Here you lie. Not dead, but not really alive. A product of a system designed to consume every inch of imagination and creativity and squash it. In this system there is no food chain, there is no progression, you live in squalor, you are a disgusting insect. A cockroach scattering under the feet of those who seek to dominate and control you, who rely on the millions of cockroaches that are just like you to keep them afloat.

Floating, floating in a sea of short-sighted irrationality, of sinful pride and stupidity. The air is heavy and brown, the water likewise. Factories spew out smoke that mingles with the dense fog to create the lung-damaging gas known as smog. The wheels keep churning, but every single energy source has now been exhausted. Complete annihilation of the cockroaches and those that are doomed to become them is all that lies ahead.

When an animal gets stuck in a trap it will bite its own limbs off to save itself; this is logical. But when a machine starts to consume itself to power its meaningless expansion, when it loses as much as it gains, how can this be rationalized? Imagine an animal eating its entire body so that it can survive, or, rather, look around.

Yes, that’s right, lift your head up, your half-alive cockroach. What do you see? Not much, that’s the smog’s fault I suppose. It doesn’t matter much to you anyway, does it? All you are interested in is gorging yourself on food, leaving crumbs all over your residence, leaving stains on all your clothes, and leaving bits of meat stuck in your dirty, uncared for teeth. All you care for are emotionally vacant orgies with other grotesquely obese monsters, with so much useless flesh flapping around, sticky and sweaty with the heat of copulating.

You disgusting slob, can you even see past the next meal? Can you use females for something other than a depository for your seed, for something other than meat to grope? How can you justify yourself?

Get up. I said get up, you lethargic ignoramus. How far are you willing to let it go? Do you enjoy being a cockroach? Do you think at all?

Of course you do. Perhaps I am too arrogant, too quick to judge. This darkness that I see exists only in my mind, this system the spews insects is a product of my idle mind. The factories are synapses firing, the smog are chemical reactions. I am the cockroach. I am the annihilator. I am darkness, I am depravity, I am decadence. I am all this and more. I am nothing at all.

And you, yes you, my dear “friend”, now cease to exist.


At Tuesday, March 06, 2007 8:09:00 AM, Anonymous wende said...

uhhh, I am very confused.


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