Beyond the smiles of many are a brooding synthetic love, inside a mental cauldron, a boiling brain of consciousness gone awry. The filtering mechanisms meant to shield us from darker feelings have been deceased for sometime now, lied to and buried beneath the corpse of consciences lingering too long in the death heap of our minds. Believe in the future of nothing, and believe in the truth. No one can stand in the path of evil forces and be rescued buying into the world system of hypocrisy and lies. Too bad we only discover this after wasting helplessly away in the turmoil of the false belief in universal justice. Hysterical women were hysterical when they realized that the truths nobody today told them, that the majority of men in this world are rotten to the core and the poor women exist only gibberishly in their dis-oriented minds.
Fair-haired maidens all, they never stood a chance in the infantile world they were ledto believe in all their lives, in which the fantasies of their girl-hoods were replaced too slowly by the cruel reality of slavery to the world of man. Honest discussion will cast the scales fall off of our eyes to see the turbo powered death we are being dragged into, through a vortex of sombulence and dreamy words, that act as an antistatic pad to egos of the maniacal hoards. They gladly devour your flesh and soul with swarthy potions of death and an arsenicly narcisstic fury.
Feast hares ontologically on the lettuce of the Abu Ghraib of truth. The fox is in the hen house and the feathers are flying. Your children are menacing even before your eyes, though your fealty to them is heavily weighted favor of them and their offspring, who shall in turn wait for their carcasses also to glibly fall and be feasted on by them, noticing little about or caring what was done or seen, and ending the existence as though it were the emperor’s clothes, the life that never was, merely a nightmare in pastels of grey and black, forgotten forever except for the burp of satisfaction of having eliminated all traces of the parts that can be seen but no longer heard. It is finished! The still air is quiet, all our sounds swallowed up in the silence of Death's victory cry: Veni vidi vici!
(Veni, Vedi, Vici: I came, I saw, I conquered!)