Though I am not entirely happy with the last two posts, I’ll share anyway. Perhaps someone else will see some value in these words.
Involuntary digestion drives us through the underground oesophagus of this city pulling cargo boxes of workers, black lung prisoners in suits, ties, white shirts and reflections crisp as pallbearers on the way to their own funerals, encased in glass tower caskets slitting clouds with antennae.
We ride through the bowels of this giant, walk its labyrinth bones built in our own names, consumed by crushing shadows of monumental structures to worship and adore our own martyrdom. We built this God like so many others, made our imagination palpable, an effigy of stone and glass created to reflect our ego.
From boxes where we sleep to boxes where we die, to boxes where we are buried to furnaces where we are burned to finally be spewed out by gaping sphincters into scorched skies, this place was created in our image, an homage to the dark hearts of man, we are food for our own God.
We harnessed the power of the atom turning nature against itself, the nuclear harbinger of destruction ridding a red horse gifted with the power to deliver us home to nothingness, drive with its breath our very cells into memories and its surviving witnesses to madness.
It will not remember its makers once we are buried beneath the rubble and what untouched soil there is left.
All Gods crumble,
And so will we