I Want to Be Dirt, Again.

To "belong" to a culture carries only subjective value, and little even of that; only the incredibly foolish or incurably fearful would compromise all reason for the benefit of a dysfunctional family that benefits none of its members. Had it a voice as simple as the human mind, the universe would set its horrified laughter to resound within these fragile spines as dirges for our dead futures. What a pathetic fly of a soul one must possess, to simply accept drowning in the ointment of all life as most do! What travesty of inner vision abides blinding oneself to the serenity of absolute truth, in the name of imagined absolution?

This, above all things, I strive to know and never forget - for while I live—and when I die—I would have the world's poison fresh upon my lips, that I might warn the Earth herself if e'er she sees fit to once more dabble in human folly, come her next youth.