Reality blows up in your faces. Madness and despair run rampant. I can no longer believe in truth or beauty. It’s fake news, fake photos, fake stories, fake people, a fake you, and a fake me. Nothing is immune in a whirlwind of propaganda. Everywhere are steaming piles of fresh accusations heaping false falsehoods and bold-faced untruths of every dénouement upon the semiconscious public.
Every little thing now is unreal, untrue, misconstrued, and irrelevant in this place, a bawdy, farcical theater of the absurd fantasy of freedom. The exact moment it stops being, it no longer exists. Reality that is, as we know it to be, becomes even more unreal. Becoming far less intelligent, less educated, less meaningful, and, rightly so, more surreal. It resides within our heads like a giant rodent gnawing through the skull to escape. No self-control in a controlled environment. No righteous indignation.
To stand at the precipice of no return, where the bottom busts out, the wheels fall off, and the machine goes off the rails. Lies become truth, and the lowest scum rises, reaching the pinnacle of this perverse inhumanity. To touch heaven will never get you out of the hell. The feeble brain mechanisms are whacked out of kilter, a neural frenzy in full swing. Everybody’s getting nowhere fast. No place to hide. They lip-sync. Even the gods closed up shop and ran for the hills. Believe what you will about it, but don’t trust anyone or anything. Don’t listen to the nonsense voices in your head. Pay no attention to the words coming out of your mouths. They are not your words.
It’s always felt like we were cheated. Swindled out of this life. Hornswoggled. Rubes, dullards, suckers and fools don’t complain about it too hard. We’ve seen the scary monsters, and they are us. I’m a misanthrope, a flawed human who’s watched the world burn for 70 years. That’s about the only thing left that’s real. A facsimile of what once belonged. A carbon copy of a facsimile. Everything else is artifice. I’m a dinosaur who has lived more than a few lifetimes. A full-blooded Siciliano, the very best world-class liars. Honest liars. Truthfully.
They had to be able to survive being ravaged, pillaged, raped, and conquered so many times over millennia. I'm not black, but I’m not white. More of a mutt. The mixed breeds coming out of the Middle East, Saudi Arabia, Spain, Italy, Morocco, North Africa, and Sudan, and Egypt, the commingled bloodlines of ancient traditions and bloody vendettas. Never forgive, never forget. Put out the evil eye and the bullhorns. Curse the day you were born and your entire lineage. They realized that they were screwed from the get-go. Flip off the devil. Why not? Everyone’s fair game.
We muddle through another day of unadulterated waste and thank those unlucky stars above for keeping us distracted from the facts. It’s the customer self-service, cashier, bag boy, DIY, and paying for the privilege. And, don’t forget to return your cart to the cart area. We don’t appreciate your patronage.
All the saints are sinners, chicken-dinner winners, and all the bums think they’re kings. They should be. Nobody wins the human race. A brand new day, a glorious morning. Perfect weather, peace and quiet, open air. You can’t see it from here. It doesn’t last forever. If you look closely, you’ll notice the cracks in the world. You can see the light in all that dark space around you. The energy of pain and suffering.
It’s somewhere between around here and someplace over there. You’ve been there before. Many times, looking back. The eternal sunshine of some awful truth glowing through the pitch and embers. The endless possibilities to look at another way. A different angle. What you see ain’t always what you get. It’s a good view from here, though. Gazing toward tomorrow’s next move. It’s not magic or trickery. Seeing with your own eyes, that beautiful world. It’s there. Are you blind? Who knows if it’s real or a dream? Don’t fight it. Check out the map. They’re watching. Beware. Just look over your shoulder, it’s all there waiting just for you. Don’t you see?