The weak-assed ones were defined as such and, as such, no longer got props. They lost a far majority of respect by being strong enough to put on paper caps and take orders for the man behind cash registers everywhere. The alternatives were just as sickening or worse. This kind of humbling and self-sacrifice was somehow an essential, in that book no one wanted to read, character, for dummies. Meanwhile, the ritual of the revolution was somewhere in its cycle, maybe at that place where highlanders following mountain streams to low lying rivers to some sea or another. Wherever walmart has been dumping their refuse these days. Ritual. Fated yet full of vitality despite knowing its own end. What lies between commence and commencement. Vitality secondary to some projectory toward greater levels of intoxication, tapering off at an equal or greater pace, like a gyre inverted then sizzled ala redux tragique.
The process was ugly, Processed. And on an eternal loop as it were. as it were. as it were. as it were… etc. Ad infinitum. Or until the end of the human race. Until the end of the human race. The end of the human race. End of the human race. Of the human race. The human race. Human race. Race. Ace. Ce. e. . Goddess forbade any such hold over court by any boring ass martial law enforcement or military tribunal or rent-a-cop or hired gun or private security firm officer or guy advertising on craigslist for cheapo who comes and parks around the corner in a trashed old volkswagen rabbit that has been converted from diesel to vegetable oil consumption.
The process had to play out in its violent natural way. In lieu of real thoughtful seat of government (which was inconceivable) they had the bodies there surrounding the weak ass regime, monarch, princess, witch, or whomever abused power in the most efficient aka surreptitious manner. And the bodies en masse created a traffic jam for the movement of any sane central artery of honest-to-goodness wisdom, and charged an entrance fee to their circus. And trolled front street in black leather assless chaps because the bubble goose caboose needed breathing room, heya! They carried alot of weight, in that ass. Trolling for friends or people who would be attracted to bling and unscrupulously do the moth to a flame thing with a smile until they got the back hand or the headbutt or the credit ran dry. Trolling for increasing levels of chemicals introduced to the bloodstream, a fine how do you do! (t.b.c)
by Katya Mills, 2013 katyamills.com