The bass drums rolled into a maelstrom of hate.
Distorted guitars blared and the blue notes of the bass spun
to the ground.
Gloom was now in an excited rage of ecstatic orgasms
too hot to handle.
Their red bodies contorted to the asymmetry, one combinding his fist with anothers nose
The subways roared with hatred; their hatred was throwing streams of pennies at train tracks so they could be spat right back. In their violent abstraction there was a fervor involved, mixing sexual intensity with the primal violence associated with a half-baked form of cultivation. Unadultered and unsupervised the crowd spun, effeminately wreaking in idealistic entropy. Loose cannons pointed at themselves with the propensity to pull the trigger.
"OOH AAAH OOH AAHH!!"
And they could feel the explosion in their hearts.
Fall in love
Not in line.
The graphitti stained the wall. Impressed, the older man put his hand on the artists shoulder;
"You know, for some reason, if we wanted the fascists to stop bombing. . .The solution isn't bombing them ourselves. So good on ya'."
The blue sunset cascaded along the dark summer shore. Her bright blue belly had extended over the horizon while the transparent mosiac of frozen waters hung idle in the sky. Echos of her past were smuggled in the waves, and at any other time it would be murky and poison. But right now it was just yes.
It was yes.
And his blood shot eyes captured the enticing transformation of life to death, of inception to end, of A to B, of pain to pride
complete. And for a moment he could feel his symbolic being transformed from the effortless intensity of the Jackal Skins to just another warm body on the surface of the planet.
He spat out a few lines while the electronic drums slammed behind him. The lime light was blaring in this small gathering of friends, exchanging rhythms and lines off a cheap, hardly working beat box.
I'm willin' to
spillin' a dozen
a dime, keeps
my hard levity
Caught red handed
like a fish in chains
your games don't bother me
I've got nothing to gain
I'm not a sheep you can finger
I've got a stinger and a propensity
to pull the trigger.
The crosshairs rested on the president.
Did I mention his hair stood up in goosebumps? Like there was any danger.
Nothing would change, they'd just replace him.
You don't need to do this to change society. You're going to end up changing NOTHING.
But you're used to that, aren't you?
You little fucker, you're a worthless piece of trash. Might as well waste someone they pay attention to.
Because life is worth more when more people with lives recognize you.
There's got to be another way. I've been beaten over the head. I've sat in. I've written what I know is wrong, I just need to change the world to fit with it.
And this is the only
With that, he pulled the trigger. The rifle fired, spiraling the thousands of newtons of force spinning in a spiral of fucking ginkcuf hate etah die eid motHERFUCKER!!!
The television screen buzzed for a second, glass shattered, and then powered down.
Reggy looked at her picture and quickly snuck it away in his wallet. He shouldn't have done that right before this. In an attempt to detoxify her from his mind, he meditated gently in the still, lukewarm air. The operative came out and tapped him on the shoulder, "This is the last one you're doing Mr. Ishmael, correct?"
The bellow of his low-tenor answered in a detached tone, "For today. The light treatment, correct?"The man nodded. Walking in he approached a scrawny, feeble looking character. Fingers twitching, twiddling his thumbs; maybe addicted to a stimulant and withdrawing.
"So, what're you in here for?"
"How's that working out for you?"
The prisoner grunted. Reggy retorted;
"You know, it's bad enough that the system exploits us, harms us, keeps us in ignorance. . .Even worse is that it warps us, turns us into petty, disguistingly viscious cowards. It's really comforting to you to blame 'the system', blame 'society', isn't it?"
He could sense the prisoner was trying to ignore him. "Like I don't know what you're all about." All of a sudden, Reggy's tone amped up past dial 11; "You're blasé expression does not hide your insecurities. You go from ideology to ideology each containing JUST enough truth to keep you hanging, but fragmentary enough to keep you from confronting the totality concretely. And in your 'radical' efforts you disillusion yourself to a spectacle of an impossible scenario."
Now he was holding his head. Hands clenched against his ears. Reggy tore a hand away and they both fell to the table. "Do you think you can squealch the truth? Do you really think that's the protection you need right now? Let me ask you; how does bombing the government keep the government from bombing others? No, don't even answer that. What example are you setting? Blow up your problems? So now it's OK to blow things up because it's not YOU, it's THEM and THEY'RE the problem, is that right?"
"Do you think you can console yourself? Go ahead, despise the naïve, despise the provincial, the yokel, the victim, the proleteriat, the person who still believes in his government or in his job-- whose caricatured submission is a catalyst presented as a foil precisely to make you forget your own. You're even telling yourself right now that this applies to 'most people', but not YOU! No, you're a special snowflake, the hero, the man who changes the world for the better while it crumbles around him. Fuck me? Fuck you."
The sky was strewn with trails of air craft fighters. That wouldn't be any good. They're faster then the speedboats we got.
"Arigh' crew, 'dis is happenin'."
It was a giant motherfucking boat. No way. We're fucking insane.
"Don't call 'erselves Jackal Skins fer' nothin'. Le'see if we can start some fireworks!"
Emerging from the abandoned Esamiran coast their ships tantalized across the ocean like a rush of pain makes it's way up the nervous system. How they got so close is beyond me. All I remember is jumping off the boat and feeling the cold ocean breeze turn into the freezing water below. My physical body was torn away from reality, and for a short moment I could feel myself flying through the air. I caught a glimpse of my burned bits of severed limbs.
The ship rammed right into side of the larger ship. They could hear a swarm of bees, weapons being readjusted; lasers slammed down into the deep but their boats curved evasively. He made a mistake on the turn-- or maybe the boat didn't respond fast enough-- and I saw a laser slice into his neck. Blood literally fountained out and our speed craft spun out of control. I felt like a crocadile grabbed hold of me and began rolling, twisting my body into immeasurable contortions. I heard the hard hum of the blade spinning in my ear.
The speedcraft slammed into the boat-- it was glorious! Bits of that dumbass spiraled as an effect of momentum. Then we cascaded around the dark summer shore, dodging lazers like a FunV rave until a beautiful display of gore splattered across his face. The other boat caressed the waves, spinning in an ecstatic rage of machinery, right into the hull of the big ship. I took out the C4 and slapped it where it WOULD hurt. And I quicklyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
I looked back. Fucker got shot before he hit the detonator. I kept my foot on the gas and headed towards the sunset, nearly diving down; I grabbed the detonator and pressed the button a million times. I only had to once; that was pretty easy to figure out.
"Independance day? That can't be right. We're about to sell you off into slavery."
The Broken Star terrorists shuffled a nuclear family of prisoners from out of the back of the truck. They were frightened.
"But we'll tell you what. . .If your government, lets say 'buys' you're independance back, we're fine with that too."
The technology-guy of the group began to establish a video message. "Now don't give me that 'we don't negotiate with terrorists' bullshit. . ."