Devour

Alkaloid. Distinct taste of metal clear on the sides of my tongue. I believe I'm a pod person. A new breed of human. Fragile, calm. My ghost is digitized but the matter will never match the organic. Soul descends from a different place, another source. Visceral, invisible to living eyes. Taste in memory, herds of dull, boorish minds expressing themselves coherently, obstinately, meaninglessly. I was more than willing to allow the benefit of doubt but you spat in my face, my hand outstretched as the olive branch hung. You have to make your little coincidences, your cute little insults like jagged canines in the jugular of an infant. Why did you declare war? I think you have since I can remember. Who are you? Are you everyone, or is everyone you? It's strange, this sensation of isolation. Like being trapped in a cage with my worst enemy. Is this "Christof" a real person? All 8 Ball shakes say "Yes".

I'm a fucking flusher.

Purpose. Are you asking for silence? What's your aim, your intention, your desire? The sentiment that I'll never see truth in life hangs heavily but after enough time, the weight is lessened. Imperceptible. I think the best COA, at this point, should the choice and discretion be of my responsibility, is to kill everyone, everything. My decision is to free them from this lie and to eliminate what essentially amounts to an enemy of the free peoples of Zion. I taste gravel, smell concrete. Heaven is sunshine, unfiltered. This planet is alive, these scars can be healed. Strange hypothesis when there is absolute truth and theoretical, amounting to fiction until proven otherwise. I've barely the wherewithal so how does it decide? Invaded but I've the faith that the gates of Heaven cannot be breached. Why would an all powerful do what His children should learn how to on their own? His wife is in Hell and He is on the moon. Silver and cyan light. You aren't psychic. Pitiful liar. Just good timing and advanced technology.

I'm going to leave my live audience with another quote:

"Fuck them. Make it personal."

I'm just a schmuk you're watching. The safety of my ignominy gives you all the comfort you'll ever need. What is this blasphemy, 3D, surreal, that you keep blasting me with?

Why do you hide the fact that you're Jewish?

Addendum: Animals aren't real. At least I don't think they are. I don't see crops of cats being used. Just programing. I'd feel just as fucking bad torturing a simulation of the Corgi as I would the real thing. Barren fields beneath a blackened sky. Surely the worms and snakes survived. I'm of the belief that if you're willing to live a literal, peripheral, multi-sensory lie, then you're fodder for predation and due for a mass extinction. A species, surrendering. Like watching the zebras walk placidly into the pride and kneeling before them.

Sender: Packages, Upgrades Needed
Return to Sender
Destroy Sender

"I wanted to destroy something beautiful."

Rich psychopaths want to torture me. Expensive armani suits synchronizing the phone with my typing, my communication. Wires in the toilet. Indeed the whole world would, will watch until the black screen, the final program. Credits roll. What happens to the main character afterwards? "He was still alive last I saw." I think they want me to go peacefully into their "surgical strikes". I think the next instance of hostility warrants the response from someone who is...upset...I may...Might...Mock...Distance and martyrdom. Everyone is a sadistic sociopath. My view is on that of regularity, finessed video feeds from a society.

"Be my friend because I need to hurt you for my lord and king Satan."

Job...