Sleep sound in your beds. We are building an army. This is an army of the blind, the broken and the sorrowful and the lost. And we are coming for you. The raging torrent comes at dawn and all of you will be swept from its path and into an empty and endless oblivion. The boiling black hate will be swept into the ocean with the shiny buildings and the happy people and the trees and the little innocent babies. There will be nothing left after it has all been scorched from the earth and the dust and ashes will float on the surface of the waters above the decomposing remains of the dead. The sweet memories will drown with the bits of the pretty people who wanted so much to live and breathe and consume and then destroy. The mass graves heave with the bodies as the fetid flesh burns away. There was just the gnarled and twisted fingers clawing and scraping desperately into the crumbling remnants of the echoing halls and chambers of corruption and subjugation. The screaming has stopped now. The stars are gone and the sky is black. All of the liars are dead. All of the turgid, tumescent thieves lie in waste. It is all gone now, everything you ever coveted, craved or desired. It got flushed away with the rest of the effluent.
There was nothing good left. There was nothing pure. We had to burn it down. We had to rebuild. We had to start it all again.
And now after all these years, it shouldn’t matter to me as I wake up thrashing from another night of restlessness and disturbed dreams of searing torture and stainless steel surgical implements. These incessant days scrape by, but the memories of you will never die. You shouldn’t hurt anymore. I shouldn’t care that you even existed. I still feel the dread. And then the pain returns. My armour is intact, but you will always be the little hole where the arrows can dig into my flesh. You are the thorn in my side. The irritating splinter in my paw. The niggling itch that I just can’t reach. The sore that will not heal. I always promise I won’t ever write about you again. I promise myself that I won’t waste more words on you. But here I am yet again, with the pen in my hand.
I have tried to drink you away. I have tried to fuck you away. I have tried to write you away, but you still fucking haunt me. Even when I hated you and didn’t even want to look at you, I still had the faith that the human race was fundamentally good. A lot of good things have happened to me and I should be grateful for that. I know that there are people in the world with real problems who have watched their loved ones slowly die and had their legs blown off and been infested with malignant cancerous tumours and suffered through unimaginable agony and grief. I know that I am just a selfish spoiled middle class white boy with too many unacheivable and deluded dreams. I also know that I will never be rich, I will never be important. I will never be different. I will just be like everyone else and that makes me even sicker. I know that I will always just be normal, shuffling around with the shambling mass of convention and normality to which I am inextricably bound.
I lie and relive those halcyon summer nights when I spoke hazy floral words through hot alcoholic breath and I watched the world turn on its axis as you took what seemed like an eternity to respond. Even though I wrote the script and I knew the words that would come, I still couldn’t believe them when I heard them. You will always be my obsession and I will never let someone so close again. You desecrated my trust in humanity and it is your fault I am like this. I know I’m not perfect and I never pretended to be, but I’d rather be thought of as a cunt than a weakling. Even your smile is painful, you look so absolutely content and happy and complete. And you look so fake; the perfect little couple with your peachy paper skin and warm fluttering hearts and boundless love for everything.
You broke me and I will never forgive you. And now I must seek something else to make me feel alive. I must find something to live for.
I would have burned down the cities for you. I would have carved your name in the sky. And now I am left a monster with no soul. I lost my faith in everything that day and ever since I have tried to destroy the memory of you and I still haven’t quite managed it. I thought that alcohol would have done it by now; perhaps the part of my brain would become so black and burned that I could forget you. Maybe the cells that contain the pictures of you would be destroyed and the music that echoes in my ears wouldn’t recreate your smile and your hair and your glittering eyes full of possibility. I fucking hate him so much. I want to kill him. I want to watch a blade pierce his neck. I don’t mind being forever branded a murderer, just to know that he has suffered. Just to know that he has experienced true pain before he died and that his polystyrene smile has been torn from him. I would rend open his ribcage and twist out his heart and show it to him, bleeding and pumping its last, just so he would know what it felt like. I loathe him more completely and entirely that I ever thought possible. But you are the source of my bitterness and resentment. You are the cause of all of this. You are the one who destroyed everything that was beautiful in the world and you took it away from me. You left me standing here with nothing. I’ve tried to be everything to try and forget you. I’ve tried to make myself something and I have failed at every turn. Now it seems like the only thing I am good at is writing down the reasons why I hate the world and everyone in it.
There is no revelation. There is no epiphany. Just the anger and it is slowly starting to consume me. They lie to us. Everything they say is a lie. Obey obey obey. That is all they are interested in. They want to keep you controlled. Keep you subservient and weak. They don’t want you to rise up and take back what is rightfully yours. They want to keep you silent and oppressed. They have turned their lies into a machine and the epicentre that burns within is black and full of revulsion and despair.
Just like all of us.
They want to keep you lulled in a comatose state so that you don’t wake up and realise that the restraints binding your wrists are artificial and illusory. They don’t want any spark of clarity in your dull jelly eyes. There is nothing but the repressed rage and nothing but the silently screaming minority, desperate to be released cackling into the night. They will incessantly whisper in the shadows just to convince you that they don’t exist. Just stay quiet and no one gets hurt. Just do as you are told and there will be no trouble. Just keep on living in a state of quiet desperation. Just slowly decompose and then we can recycle your soul and we can reuse you as the commodity that you are. If we can’t sell you, we aren’t interested. You are no use to us.
If you just keep working away like the little efficient productive cog that you are then you won’t bring the machine down. We would hate to have to punish you. We would hate to control you and coerce you without your consent. We would hate to make an example of you. We would hate to have to lock you up and pump you full of sedatives with our needles and little plastic tubes, just so that you never see the daylight again. Then you are left in an overstuffed chair with a ripped cover and then you start to mumble to yourself as the saliva dribbles down your chin and onto your ill-fitting pyjamas that you inherited from a dead man. They become part of you and they always smell faintly of piss and regret.
You must obey and keep earning your little pots of money so that we can live on. You must keep putting more numbers into your machines. Keeping pressing the right buttons and you will get your reward. Just like the rats that you are. You just keep pressing the button and you will get your food, you will get your career and you will get your smiling children and a tracker mortgage and you can be “happy”. You will be perpetually deceived, but you will be happy. The prescription drugs only make the ache go away, they mean that you can walk around in a cloud of denial that blinds you and lets you sleep. The truth would be too much for you anyway. It would blind you more than the darkness. You just keep going merrily along the path we set for you. Don’t break the rules. Just be normal and do as you’re told. It’s OK, you won’t see the strings above your head; you won’t see us subtly manipulating the environment around you so that you do what we want.
Dance little puppet, dance. All you will see is the shadows of the dark immeasurable shapes masquerading behind a dusty screen. You will never understand. You won’t be aware of any of this. We will keep you suitably anaesthetised with television and game shows and reality TV. The children are slowly starving and their teeth have started to rot and fall out. Not that it should concern you; it’s not your fault, it’s just on a harmless little TV screen. It’s someone else’s responsibility. This isn’t real life.
The great Republic will take care of them. Isn’t that why we pay taxes? We pay so that these kind of worthless servile rodents can be taken care of? They are probably foreign anyway, so why should we care. Maybe they should go back to their own countries and stop scrounging off our welfare state. They can’t really have suffered the horrors of genocide and ethnic cleansing. They can’t really have been the victims of religious persecution and lived in poverty and stuggled through every day and had to lie awake wondering if their children would make it through the night with gnawing hunger in their bellies, with corrupt officials and no discernible civil rights and public stonings and acid baths and decapitations and honour killings. There can’t really have been death gangs marauding the streets with machetes. They don’t really arbitrarily murder or torture their family members if the debts don’t get paid. They don’t really take fingers or slit open stomachs and pull out intestines or snap limbs with hammers. That stuff is all just made up. That doesn’t really happen in the civilised modern free world. We live in an idyllic utopia. These things are promulgated by the left-wing liberals and it is all deception and ‘smoke and mirrors’. It’s the subversive commercialised media, they are to blame.
We are the only true way. We are the leaders of the new world. We are a new master race. So, sleep well, because we will take you as you sleep. We will cover your mouth to stifle your screams. No one will hear you. There is no hope. No one will hear as we drag you out of from under your warm safe sheets of luxurious cotton. Those self same sheets that are secretly crusted with your regret and shame. We know about the dildo in your dresser drawer. We know about the come-stained towels hidden in your cupboard. We know about everything you do to yourself when you think your wife is asleep. We found the pictures hidden on your computer. We will drag you by the ankles across the cold laminate flooring as you pray that this is only another nightmare. This is a nightmare from which you cannot wake up. We will bind your wrists and your arms will bend back. We will pull you out of your slumber and out into the unforgiving night. You have slept for too long, too deep. It is time that you felt the pain that you have caused. It is time you paid for your sins.
We wait for you in darkened hallways. Sharpening our tools, waiting to strike at your pulsating jugular. As the other people clap and cheer at the rank bile gushing from the larynx of the synthetic man with the perfect hair and silver tongue: it is all too perfect. The well-versed immaculate lies composed of words that are perfectly enunciated with perfect diction, no hesitation, no repetition. We are always promised diamonds, but we are constantly delivered coal.
We serve you in the supermarkets, the petrol stations, the clothes shops, the fast food restaurants and we collectively grind our teeth as we plaster on a smile and engage in a polite exchange, but secretly we conceal the weapons and the flames burning in our eyes. All we are waiting for is a leader, a wooden misguided messiah to catalyse the chaos and orchestrate the end. There will be no escape from this eternal judgment and we will watch as you fall to your knees and beg and cry. Your polished golden words are meaningless now. We are the embodiment of the fury and the bitterness and the agony. We become one voice and we stand together as one on the blood soaked pavements under the dull glinting streetlights. We have no money in our pockets and our cars perpetually run dry. We have no jobs, no prospects, no hope. We have nothing and you are to blame. You are the one. And now you have to pay.
Then we will tie you to a post and you can be the crowning glory on the top of this exultant funeral pyre with your arms bound and your tongue wrenched out, as god sighs. He will watch as the bodies burn and the final retribution is dealt and He will lament his beloved creation gone awry. Your lies cannot save you now as the flames lick up around your feet. We scream in ecstasy as the reptile skin begins to blister. We watch your pathetic tears fall, but they do not slake the raging conflagration. It is already too late.
Now everything burns as the chaos grips us, we are rabid animals seeking flesh. We tear pieces from you. You are nothing but a bleeding carcass. You are already dead inside and now you are the victim. A visceral birth has split the sky open. This is an underworld destiny and mania reverberates as it all caves in. This is the cool breath of vengeance: the wind of change. We will come for you as you sleep and as the end comes, the surging storm will build and build and build. And now it is all gone in one swirling mass, it is so beautiful. And now the warm crystal tears run streaks in the dirt on our faces. Our lungs are filled with acrid smoke, but our voices sing loud and pure. We wash the blood from our hands and we are joy as we walk headlong into the smouldering fires, as the new dawn breaks.