He feels the earth start to shake beneath his feet as if he were on the precipice of historical discovery but then nothing happens. No one acknowledges his lapse and he is left with thoughts of further isolation and depression. Did it happen? Why didn't they warn us? He ponders the possibly of the devil rising up through the ground to enslave humanity to act upon his nefarious whims. This may as well have already happened, so the fear of this passes quickly. We are already deep in shit as is. The devil may care. He can roam freely among us without any turned heads. Our bars are full of hospital patients and children resort to free-basing laundry detergent to find escape from awful parenting and neglect in homes of particle boards, holes in the ceiling from all of the screaming toward god and heaven. There is no salvation in a slave state and your history stays with you until you die and then it is forgotten and only sick bastards will continue old grievances and fugues after you die. If someone hates you that much, the best thing to do for them is to forgive. A nice gesture in the face of bitter animosity is the most righteous possible activity when you find yourself in combat. Whatever the disagreement was over, it is all over now. Your dead. The issue must also be.
He lays on the concrete and stares at a gaping, starless sky. There are colorful clouds up there to represent changes in the weather. Different levels of conditioning at a young age allow these clouds to appear in a number of ways. There is utter indifference, a thought of stupidity in regards to keeping your eyes to the sky, but for meteorites and comets, for galactic explosions and asteroids that end existence of humanity. Do not be indifferent to the transient beauty of the world we share. This is willful ignorance due to subverted moralities and a constant striving to impress other mindless humans. Find yourself in dissociation from society and you will see how imbecile and moronic the whole system is. Define 'beautiful' for a person. Beautiful for a scene is a nostalgic event and I always imagine the thousands of others who have noticed the color changing sky as a dissociative fugue from their daily monotony, their system of trials and rewards, of unremarkable days lined up until everything blurs and a huge feeling of submission overtakes your ambition. You amble along at the lowest potential wrung. You should hang yourself. The sky will take on new colors in your mind if you do. There are no right ways to look at things but to ignore perspective is to shut yourself off from a world of truth and understanding.
Why desire to blend in?
We are not fucking chameleons or lemmings walking off great cliffs in greater hoards, are we?
