Nothings and Everythings

Trigger Warning: body horror, abuse, psychological horror, suicidal ideation, self harm

CHAPTER ONE: THE FUCKING DESPAIR WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE

I held my attention to the cave floor below me, not out of choice - but convenience. The last hundred choices I made were either sliding my hips left or right across the largest blade of coral, ignoring the pain until the lower half of my mermaid body had finally left me alone. The plant is now blocking my vision of it - good thing really - any more anger and I might fall through the slivers and pins jabbed into my stomach and chest and hit my face on the floor. I closed my eyes, waiting for my leaking blood to cover the rainbow coral before that triggered anything in me. I was left with a low buzzzzzzzzz - my tail - resting peacefully, on the ground below me. Bits of my brain, those that remained, recognized a flash of light through my eyelids as a ghostly silhouette - and as I remembered, I quickly pushed the oxygen away from my chest and held it empty in an attempt to deplete my mind of the energy needed to-

I failed. Oh lord, please don't save me, let me succumb to the depth of hell that most beckons to me. This warm blood will be the last I feel of the shiver that takes me into the fire. I cannot grow, I cannot be who you want me to be, I cannot embody you, and here my stagnant body is proof that nothing will embody me. I am as empty as the water that fills the gaps of my spine. Maybe, the water will replace my blood entirely and I will spend eternity flowing through every current but the one underlying me now. I need it, since my tail won’t be doing any more work for me - good thing really - I don't have to carry around this tiny dick now. I took the smallest breath my body would allow me to - not that I'll be doing much of anything, not anymore. I allowed the warmth of my blood to sedate me. Ah, the peace. Death awaits me and finally an expectation that will become reality. Clatter, bonk bonk. A pebble - no, a boulder - no, it must have been one of the chimaera I saw earlier. I hope it leaves me alo-

“HI! I’m Stevie. Are you okay?” squeaked the whiny fucking bitch, and I clenched my face tighter, locking my eyes together.

“I just need to take this nap” I muttered through my teeth, overusing my prayers to give some sense, “Your friends are waiting for you, bud.” “They aren't my friends.” A moment passed in stillness as my shadow winced. “Why did you collapse there, are you an Everything?” the fish accused, brushing its finger across the wringer. My eyes rolled within my head, pounding my skull as they searched to break through my eyelids to give this dumbass a side. “Look, you'll understand once you’re older, so move along. This is something that we adults have to do so that we may transform the parts of ourselves that are undesirable. The lower half of my body no longer served a purpose to me, so I cut it off. That's what you do when you have problems, silly, you fix them. Problems like how you have no frie-".

“Are you going to die?” whispered the chimaera, their voice shaking. “You look pale and your mouth keeps twitching.”

What? Can this motherfucker hear me? Im fucking speaking to em. What, does sound suddenly not carry in water anymore, did the laws of physics change since a moment ago - when I sawed myself in half? Did mother nature send the tooth fairy to take my vocal chords before she sent the reaper? Fucking rude if you ask me, I’m gonna strap a bomb to this fey and send it back to her to open the box where she keeps it around. The bitch will be vibrating one way or the other. I shuddered and my head twitched to the side, abandoning my jaw - letting out a low grunt. Blood had completely soaked the bladed plant beneath me and was now slipping into the cracks between the rocks.

“I'm going to get help” sparked the tooth fairy and I felt a sharp pain where the other half of my stomach should be. I suddenly became very aware that opening my eyes would require more energy than I possess. My mouth was dry, rotting, metallic. Red hot coils were navigating through the folds in my brain like buzz wire, cauterizing anything that moved on its own. Every recoil and I could feel the burning, melting tissue, dripping down the insides of my skull, finding its way into my bloodstream and getting stored by my fat cells. I could hear my tail, screaming FIRE at my body from under my waist and at my mind from the cave floor. I could feel my organs trying to slip their way out of my body - not nearly sneaky enough for me not to notice - and sucked them back in. The left side of my body fell numb - as my hand regained control of itself, it struck a chord on the coral in protest, cutting itself, and went flat. It sat limp for a moment, palm up, and then moved its way under its partner in crime, (the one stuck in a ball with its thumb sticking up), and gently pushed it up and down in front of my chest, signing. I stayed as still as possible as my hand continued to pray for me. I hope the chimaera brings back a baddie, I thought plainly, and everything went dark.

I returned to the sounds of mumbling, screeching, hissing - I peaked an eye open and saw a dark, dull emerald wrasse, in a white trench coat, nudging a minecart off its trail towards me - followed by a smaller, silver chimaera with rainbow, metallic, and holographic scales - who was chatting endlessly with all the critters watching them from the cave walls. With veined curiosity, I kept my eye open with a sliver and let out a pained sigh as the chattering grew louder.

“PLEASE, can you save them? You can't let them just die here like this, why won't you do it, why why why, go faster, go faster, please, doctor,” exacerbated the little ball. I went to take a deep breath in an attempt to fill myself with gratitude that at least one of my organs was willing to work for me, but my diaphragm got blocked by the stock of coral still resting on it. My annoyance was softened by the composure of the wrasse who had clearly been tuning this out for quite some time. As he approached me, I sensed the eyes of every critter in the room following him. He was clearly old, but his skin shined brighter than his eyes. He spoke, “What do you want me to do about that? I'm not a necrophiliac. It looks like it's been dead for quite some time,” he frowned. “There isn't anything more to do with this except to have a snack on the way home.” A cold wave passed through me, my pain dissipated, and my eyes shot open, squirting out a little blood with it onto the cheek on the wrasse. Excitement lit up his face.

“Oh, we got a fighter here,” he grinned into my eyes as he licked the blood off himself, savoring it. “Maybe I can work with this.” I watched in disgust as he took a stroll around me, examining my body. In every moment, his mouth twitched into a grin and reset. “It’s about 90% through the largest blade of the coral, and gravity is doing the rest. Thankfully, its positioning is keeping the internal organs and blood from pooling out all at once - although I doubt they are still holding it together. We can either lift it up and try to keep them together, or we can push it down and race to my lab, fix it up there,” remarked the doctor.

I considered this for a moment but lost interest in less. 90%? What do you mean, 90%? My tail is cut off - resting on the coral - I could hear it. I tried to sigh, but blood leaked out of my mouth, burning my lips and chin. Theres no fucking way I grinded my ass on this spiky plant for hours and I dont even FINISH? - I coughed, splattering blood on both of them. The chimaera screeched and scattered around the room, scrambling for a current that would clean them. The wrasse didn't flinch - the weird shit didnt even blink, I can see the blood sinking into his fucking cornea.

“We don't have much time. I'm going to push down now, is that okay?” probed the doctor. I winced, keeping my eyes open to match his gaze. He watched me, unblinking, as his iris shifted from brown to maroon. Then red.

I couldn't feel my vocal cords working as my whole body started to shake. I spun my head around the room - empty - the chimaera couldn’t help me, and there was nothing else around. I flexed my back—pain jolted through me—and I dropped again, lower. There was no way for me to get up on my own. I coughed inside my mouth and tasted bitter. I wanted to say no, but it wouldn't have made a difference. I must have said yes, because the next thing I remember I was riding in the minecart, my tail nowhere to be found, my head pointed towards the passing scenery, as the doctor stayed head down with his snout on the back, keeping the wheels turning. I stared at the black walls as flashes of color passed by - Trees and bees and toll fees and homeless pees and the little gee named Stevie watching me carefully in the seat next to me. I glanced at them, and in a moment pain overtook my face and I yelped a weep, swinging back around, hoping Stevie didn’t see and the doctor didn’t hear. Why didn’t they stay on whatever current they were searching for? I wondered as I watched as salty rivers convert and divert, pool and erode, follow and leave. As vents erupt, jellies reflect the light strained.

As we passed an opening in the walls, I saw the city. Arugula, the capital of Pearl. Crowded, tall, dark buildings with shiny lights centering rows and rows of scrum. How can somewhere so full feel so empty? How can somewhere so rich be so impoverished? SHHHhhh. From somewhere in the scrums, hindered by pollution, a firework went off. Green and pink stars filled the sky, I watched as they trickled down into the darkness, fading harmlessly. I felt a pressure on my hand - I swiped it away - jolted upright, leaking blood to the floor to shoot an arrow up from my chest. I quickly swung my awareness - upon seeing it was Stevie’s hand, clenched my jaw, letting the arrow slice the inside of my lip. Stevie looked with confusion as a drop of blood trickled down my chin. I licked it off. It tasted bitter, and I frowned. “We’re going to get through this,” I stated aloud, pretending not to notice their tskkk.

The wrasse took a turn away from the main road leading to Arugula and back through the cave system, through unused military barracks and depleted mining facilities, and arrived at the entrance to Dr. Dookie’s laboratory. The shadowed, glowingly colorful, jagged caves blend flawlessly into the wall of off-white paint framed by large, black rimmed, metal doors. “Open” states the doctor. The door opens. No receptionist greets us as the doctor takes a moment to catch his breath, then attaches us to a large metal arm from the machine closest to the door, pulling us inside. As I looked around, I began to notice that the outer walls were closing in on us. There were beds where walls should be and tables, littered with devices unfamiliar, where the floor should be. The arm pulled us closer to the nearest bed, bumping the minecart into a separate frame - knocking the upper half of my body over, which landed on top of Stevie - who let out a muffled screech. The doctor quickly took notice. “Hey, I'm so sorry how clustered it looks in here,” obliged the doctor, as he grabbed me with large metal arms and swung me to the operating table. The arm holding the minecart threw Stevie to the other side of the room - Dr. Dookie ignored my look of shock as he continued, “Seventy years. Seventy years I served, giving our men their wings. Healing them. Blowing the air under their legs, just not from behind - or in front - I gave them what they needed. I gave them a fresh start, A better mind, A better body, A stronger soul. They were in so much pain, so they came to me because they wanted to feel normal again. They wanted power, so they asked me, how’d you do it? I worked harder. I worked harder than all the fucking bums I grew up around. Men who didn't have what it took. Men who couldn't see what I saw. Men who didn’t get it. You know this best - that this is a world of earnings, my prince. Your Father is the hardest working man I’ve ever met, he’s dedicated himself to this nation like no other King has done before him - I could never be him.” He glanced at the floor, his expression unchanging, and back. “But, I could make you better than him. Many have died by my hand, my friend, but not on my table. I know exactly what I am doing here. I am going to make you stronger than whoever it is you were imagining to be before you got on that coral. You are going to fly out of here, A better man. A more capable man. A more beautiful man. You will be able to solve your problems instantly, without having to bat an eye, or lash” - my body twitched into a wink- “yes, my friend, it's that simple. Do you have enemies, Cornelius?”

Panic set into my body, is that really my name? There’s no fucking way I lasted this long, right? Why did no one ever tell me? How much does he know? WHAT IS GOING ON. The headphones I was wearing - that didn’t exist - suddenly stopped working. I heard a buzz from across the room, and as I looked for the source - I caught a glance of Stevie - now a blur behind blue glass. I gasped. Stevie was completely inaudible, chucking whatever shit he could grab at Dr. Dookie, the various tools and configs being stopped by the glass - was that always there? I felt a shiver down what was left of my spine. They was fucking pissed. I'm not really sure why tho, he’s a doctor - he’s been helping our poor soldiers for seventy years. He just wants to help people. He clearly knows what he’s doing - he told me he did. I think I might just let this man do anything to me. I laid there and waited for him to start again.

“I am going to fix you, sweetheart. By the time I'm done, you won't even remember that the other half of you exists. Do you want to know what's happening to it, right now, Cornelius? It's being eaten. By your brothers, by your sisters, by the crusty crabs that walk the ocean floor, by the spiders on the crabs that walk the ocean floor, by the bacterias on the spiders on the crabs that walk the ocean floor. It’s fucking trash, Cornelius, dont get it twisted. Trash for the lesser to pick at, scraps to chew on, a house to hide inside. But not one you could live in. That's why you’re here, you want to be whole again. You wanted to die tonight, so you can kill demons of hell tomorrow, isn't that right? I can do that for you, you know, but you have to allow it. You have to give me control, just once, and then you will be in control forever,” stopped the doctor, letting the moment pass over, just once.

“What are you going to do?” questioned Corn. 

“I am going to make things easy for you. I am going to make them simpler, I am going to make you right. Your enemies, Cornelius, have been slaughtered by your family for generations. It's in your blood. But you have a unique opportunity here, because every generation brings a new innovation - and I’ve brought yours - here it is - I call it Weapon Z.” Dr. Dookie brings out a Mermaid-size Regal Goldfish Three Pronged Tail Synthesized Aim Lock Auto Shootizer. “This bad boy is going to revolutionize how armies perceive and function inside wartorn territories. As you can see, on the outside this will look like a normal, typical, right mermaid body - a quite beautiful one I might add - but at any moment, as soon as you identify an enemy soldier, it will - Dr. Dookie pressed a manual activation button inside the asshole of the tail and the shortest prong snapped around, above the head level of Cornelius, opening up into a blaster barrel - kill them instantly. They won't be able to speak, act, think, feel, use, do, mind, find, grind, use their behind, really not anything at all. Useful, right? A lot of folks walking without blood in them, amiright? So, would you mind if I hooked you up with this device?”  

Corn felt its head nod. It couldn't explain it, It didn't want to try. It had to do this. “I'm going to give you some painkillers, and when you wake up you will feel better forever. Try not to get addicted to these too, alright?” Dr Dookie smiled with brown teeth, “Sweet dreams.”

I awoke in the same bed I fell asleep in, although with a stale scent. I looked around, orienting myself, and noticed three facts: I was still in pain, the northernmost wall of the laboratory was a full length mirror, and I was completely alone. Before, it was blocked by the clutter, but it cleared up - Stevie must have spent all their energy during the surgery throwing every single object on their side of the room at the invisible wall - as the pile of spoons and various inornate devices was now stacked towards the center of the room. I looked at the northernmost wall. The Mermaid-size Regal Goldfish Three Pronged Tail Synthesized Aim Lock Auto Shootizer blended into my scales seamlessly - I was magnificent. For the first time in my life, I saw the strength of myself, I could feel the power I welded beneath the surface - a quite beautiful one I might add - I grinned widely. I couldn't begin to imagine the fun I'll have with these prongs. Long tail too, I heard that was a necessity. Man, I hate a lot of people, don’t I? Well, goodluck to them. I swam away from the bed and began to dance.

“Open” - I stopped dancing - the door opened, and Dr Dookie strolled in. He didn’t look at me. “Close” - A wave of disappointment and betrayal hit me. I looked away and saw the pile of spoons.

“Where is Stevie?” I strained, my glance darting back to him, slipping into a glare. The doctor looked at me, calculating.  An inescapable tension accumulated in my chest, as I felt his wheels turning, grinding my insides, grappling my needs, shifting them. 

“Cornelius! Hi, you look so incredible today! Stevie was an incredible doll throughout this whole process, they’ve really inspired me to bring some color into my projects!” He exclaimed with a smile and a bounce. He held out a small scale for me to see, rainbow, metallic, and holographic -  Stevie’s. Confusion set in as I felt blood rush into my new tail - I fell faint, but caught myself before I stumbled. The doctor continued, “Look, I love Stevie -” 

The little ball in my heart burst, releasing adrenaline through my body, exiting thro- “God - SHUT THE FUCK UP. LEAVE ME ALONE, STOP TRYING TO SHOW ME SHIT!” The heat of my body was melting the brain matter from my fat cells back into my bloodstream, down my waist, through the three prongs - the shortest one snapping upright, above my head, and with a whirrrRRR and a flash of light, there was a hole in the middle of Dr. Dookie’s forehead, through his skull, and out the back of his head. It made a thump on the plated flooring, as a stream of blood splashed out of my asshole.

I stood there, seething, not shocked. I'd shoot him again if it would give me the same kick. I might just use his lab to build a time machine - go back and do it again. And again. And again. Look, I was going to die anyway, I might as well steal this man's lifework on my way to the King’s. It's entirely possible this man has never helped a single person in his entire life. Masculinity is a hellhole made for God’s most disposable bodies - especially if they were soldiers - all they achieved is maintaining police protection for the flag on their gravestones. I might now be a slave to their same fate - but using this machine can only make me stronger, and all I know is - I need to be. I need to tear down anyone, everyone, anything that stands in my way, because this goal I have, to kill this narrowly welded idiot of a Father, is going to change the world for the better. The fate of the world is in balance, and I will only slip if I must kill everyone’s for them - so time to dance. I grinned slyly. Anyway, where is Stevie? 

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CHAPTER TWO: THANK FUCKING GOD FOR THIS BITCH

I failed. They are going to die. I can’t do this any longer, I've tried everything. I cowered to the floor, allowing the mound of knives to tower over me, blocking my vision of the surgery. There is nothing I can do. Why didn't I push him out of the minecart, drag him to a hospital in Arugula? I tensed and closed off my mind before the next thought formed. I shuddered. Why did I bring back this fucking lunatic with me - how couldnt I see it? I squeezed my eyes shut, begging for a blackout—but there was only blackness. Then Cornelius. I flashed my eyes open and stared at the pile of knives. These knives are stronger than I am. I am worthless. At least they had a chance to get through this wall - since I didn't make any of them, the doctor did. Well, it was all worth the try, I sighed. I sat there and stared at the heap of it all, waiting for him to finish.

The blue glass disappeared, flattening the pile of knives, slightly, as they consumed the wider area provided to them. Dr. Dookie was already looking at me. “Hello, child. Did you enjoy the show? I tried my best to really draw it out, give you a moving target - until you ran out of energy.” He made another show of looking at the pile of knives. “I dunno, I think if you kept going - you woulda got there. Fast finisher, huh? You know without endurance, it's difficult to swim.” He flashed me his brown teeth, offering me a snack - I almost cringed visibly. He continued, “Did you really think you were safe here, child? Did you really think you could do anything to help your friend? You should have rode your luck out of here when you had your chance - You won't have another - I like your scales, they’re really pretty.” He took a step toward me, kicking the pile.

The hilt of a knife fell from the pile and landed on my gills - I gasped and darted my glance to the door - closed - the path littered with knives. With bitterness, I palmed the knife that hit me as I spoke: “Alright, but can you just stop talking. I’ve heard enough of what you have to say - it's getting a bit sickening.” Hawwwhr he laughed, expanding his face in front of his eyes - as I slid the knife into a flap in my tail. I'm going to get him with this one later, I thought plainly. He recollected himself, tensing.

“Why are you here, like you are, when you could be anything? You are weak, naive, conceited. There is not a special side of your love - It's linear - the brainpower of millions working to build a rocket shot, just to shoot it into the abyss to take pictures of planet farts. Cool, dude. There is not a motion in your soul that does not collide with another’s, so you don’t move at all. You are so transparent that all people see when they look at you is their own reflection. You are a Nothing, just like me, just like Cornelius. To be stuck as you are, with whatever you can do, it's a prison. For me, it was a shame. This body? Really? There’s nothing to be done with this but let the worms crawl on me, eat my dead skin. Worms can't eat metal, Stevie. Your friend here, part of him is going to live forever. And until he dies, I’ll keep on living too,” Dr. Dookie exclaimed as he took a moment to relish in pride. Then another, just looking at Cornelius, smiling. Shaken, but bottled - I darted my eyes to Cornelius. They looked peaceful. I took a breath for him. He continued, “Don't think his fate is the same as yours, my friend, you are not nearly as strong as him - I'm sure he would have found you bloodless and rotten on that plant long before I showed up for my treat. Don't worry, you’re special too, my friend, I know exactly what I'm going to do with you.” 

There is no way I am letting this man get close to me. He’s sagging so low his brain is dragging on the floor. His lab smells like sweat and shit, and there's old hair everywhere - the only objects in the room I left alone - not out of fear - but certainty. This man is nothing like me. No amount of love is going to change what he's going to do next. He knows what he wants, And he knows how to make nature abide by his will. No Mother is providing nourishment to this man - he probably spends his mornings under his DADDY plague set against the northernmost wall of the lab - listening to himself talk. If he won’t stop, at least this knife is gonna stick around. 

“I’m not going to touch you, Stevie. I don’t have to. You have no move here.” He stood there, watching me, in an attempt to let it sink in. I continued floating. He continued, “The Everythings, they pity you. They walk around this world, enjoying the pain of it. Savoring the opportunity to leave behind something worse for a chance at something better. Making use of every bit of a velvet thread that passes through them to embellish. Even when they don’t choose it, they make the best of it. I’ve spent my entire life trying to match their brilliance - to recreate it - until I realized something. Choice is overrated. We are all players of a game that has been ‘reinvented’  a hundred times over: mate or get mated. So I made Mother Nature my bitch so I could mate whatever I want. She’s a sly whore though - cause no matter what outcome we intend, we are always weaker than our creations - even in their destruction.” Dr. Dookie glanced towards Cornelius and I caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes as they glistened, for the first time, bright enough to match the blinding radiation of his well-kept skin. Curiosity brought my gaze with his - Cornelius was burning brighter. I sighed. “You aren’t like him, Stevie, you would get stepped on trying to fill his shoes,” he sniffled, recollecting himself. “But I could make you better. I could make you better than him.”

I shudder passed through me as his words echoed in my mind. What is the insatiable spirit inside of this freak? Is there really something better than Cornelius? I glanced at their tail, the power I know to be hidden inside engulfing my mind. They’re something like God -

“You know what he needs. That's the difference. You think I’m the one not paying attention here, Stevie? You just met me. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. Weapon Z? Nothing more than a satire of my own shadow. But you? Someone like me wouldn’t go blind to your divinity, Stevie. With my help, I believe that you have the necessary qualities to become an Everything. To grow in any which way, to thread needle after needle into the Fates web until you build a new dimension interwoven - that even they can't touch. To be God, Stevie. That’s what you want, just like me, just like Cornelius. With Weapon Z, Cornelius will only ever bring coldness, evil, into this world. With my help, you will bring warmth, good, into this world. And of course, I will hence bring both good and evil - So I win, you understand - cause I'm a libra and we love balance. Remember that cause I don't like to put my name on shit.” 

Okay, what the fuck? This motherfucker cannot be serious. It is not that deep bro, just live ur fucking life and cause no harm, unless you have consent. Like? I don’t want all that. I don’t want to do everything - anything I want… Create the tool required to solve any problem - that I care about… Help every single person I come across, no matter their predicament - If it’s worth it… Spread love in a way very few Everythings have decided to do since the revolution of Pearl - be who I dream of being... Hmmm. If it wasn't me, it'd be the next fish, and who knows what that motherfucker is going to do - probably create the next Weapon Z by drawing a circle around it, crossing out the Z, and writing an A. I glanced at Cornelius. He just wanted more power, at whatever the cost… what he needs is - a calming certainty hit me. I smiled, softly, returning my attention to Dr Dookie. He really does believe what he’s saying, doesn’t he? Me? Be an Everything? Well, I can’t hide from jealousy forever. At least knows what he’s doing - he showed me he did. I allowed fear to fill me. I stood there, widening my grin further. I held the image of the knife in my mind as I spoke, “Okay, bring it on.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Dr Dookie winced in disappointment, pulling out a device labeled <><>Black Anti-Invincibility Everything-Coded Cancer-DNA-Serum Colonizer 9000, and shot me square in the chest. I relaxed into it. The dart injected an ink-like substance into my heart, as warmth spread from my chest throughout the rest of my body. OH NO, but I recognized the color! It was the blackest black to ever exist ever - harvested from scraps of the Great Burning in the furthest depths of the Great Ravine, from Ultra-Diamond Paper that recondensed back into the very Coaliest Nothingness after receiving the pressure to know everything - would be something that weird ass bitch would have continued on with. Instead, I allowed blackness to consume me.

I awoke without oxygen in my chest, with my body strapped in place, in a dark and unknown cave - I gasped - oh no, is this a sex dungeon? That was definitely a sex thing, right? My body began to shake as I fought the water for breath. I opened my eyes as wide as I could, trying to adjust to the light in the room as quickly as possible. I reached to pull out the knife from my fin and held it close to my face. A spoon appeared. I sighed. I held onto it and looked around the room. 

A figure began to emerge through the fog on the wall to my right - Swshishesh - another being, trapped along side me - light from a low fireplace in the far corner illuminated an octopus with eight slimy arms-<> God - get me out of this hentai fanfic <>-the lower half of Cornelius’s old body. A bright orange mermaid tail, untouched by the critters of nature, still leaking blood - fell to the ground with a thummmp. I gagged. Pressure was grabbing my tail, yanking it, stretching me backwards towards the wall behind me. Tightness turned to tear and tear to agony. I could feel my fins rearrange, my cartilage grow and shift and rip through my scales. Eight slimy arms protruded out of my tail, suckers popping out one by one like bubble wrap - each mPOP splattering blood on the wall behind me - each one as satisfying as the last. I ached and yelped until it was over. I sighed - and farted? A strange unidentified Mouth opened in the center of my newfound tail and began humming sassily, “Now, THIS is draaag!”

 I gagged the damn mouth for a moment, with the spoon, and ran my fins down my new tail-arms, accessing the situation - How did that happen? As I pretended to ponder that, I took a peek at Cornelius’s old crotch - Mouth spit out the spoon and widened, “Yes, girl. It's too long AND there's not enough of it.” I closed my eyes and grinned slyly. Everyday, I get so lucky with the folks I run into - well - at least the ones with blood in them, amiright? Mouth expanded, vibrating my body, “Hey, for US? Everyone will have blood in them. I trust you sweetheart - just let me do the gagging. Let’s go get your playboy - we shall be in attendance in Arugula tonight!” I rolled my eyes - Okay, this works with me. Anyway, where is Cornelius?

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CHAPTER THREE: THE FUCKING PITY PARTY

I took one last look at Dr Dookie’s limp body, revelling in my creation. I have spent the last unsleepable-block-of-time since my last feeling of joy collecting various flesh-eating critters and inorganic waste from the compounds connecting to the lab and inserting them into the hole in his head. I waited patiently as they ate through the brain matter and down through the nervous system, searching to splash in every last drop of moisture in his body - like kids in the puddles on a rainy day before school. Soon, all that was left of his face were his brown teeth. I grinned. He is disgusting. My eyes darted towards the door and a sudden wave of prickly tension fell over me. Must be all the spoons watching me - Fuck these stupid fucking spoons - I keep telling them, “STOP GLARING AT ME!”, over and over and they just won’t listen. I stomped on the one closest to me with a prong. I stared at the flattened head, unblinking, then the door.

“Open” I stated. The door opened. The prickles became shots injecting my tense body with an unknown substance. My blood screamed, angry at the invasion - the prongs of my tail tightening, locking me into place -  I averted my gaze towards the southernmost wall of the lab. “Close” I stated. I heard bshrrr as the door closed. The needles moved off me, now hovering gently over my skin, as my tail released me. I grinded my teeth, and took one last look back at Dr Dookie’s body. He’s going to sit there, rotting, forever. “He can’t hurt me anymore,” I told myself. 

“Doorrr, opennn” sang an unfamiliar voice from outside the lab. The door opens as an automated voice chimes “with pleasure”. I saw Stevie’s face - how wonderful - and then eight slimy arms following him - a bit too close - and then a minecart - presumably empty. I darted my attention to the arms. They were a dark purple - completely ruining the delicate contrast of Stevie’s metallic, holographic, rainbow scales on silver skin. The glare of the spoons began to warm my blood. I rolled my head in a circle as my mind tensed. The stringy slimes were oozing, leaving a trail of slightly more condensed water than was previously there, tinted a colorless green, glimmering. They are disgusting. I have to get rid of that. I let my face fill with anger, attempting to heat the water around the arms so they burn. Stevie was watching me carefully, and then eyed the doctor’s rotten corpse - a voice hummed softly from the leeches attached to Stevie, “Hey, could I eat some of that - please? I’m FAMISHED”. 

I considered this. The radioactive nuclear waste now bubbling deep inside Dr. Dookie might be enough to kill the pus, but it wouldn’t guarantee Stevie’s safety. I considered turning on my tail, slicing them clean in half at the seam, but I had already affirmed to never touch the manual activation button in my asshole. My blood started to boil, steaming the prongs, causing them to float further above my head. 

“What the fuck is that, Stevie?” I berated, as the hot emptiness in my head raised my skull - leaving my jaw hanging. A voice hummed playfully, “How DARE you - How fucking DARE you. Open wide - I'll take a little shit - yum yum yummm-”

“Cornelius, chill the fuck out. Mouth is a part of me now. They experience my brain passively while maintaining the function of their eight brains, one throughout each arm. They have decided that after the loss of the rest of their body and organs - they are only now useful for Well-Timed-Quips. A waste if you ask me - so don’t. I would let them take me on any current, ride me just about anywhereee… They wanted to come here though - with me - for you. We obtained your mermaid tail.” The tentacles slid into the minecart, rusting it instantly, and arose with my lower half-

Disgust filled me. I don't want that fucking thing - that’s what got me here in the first place. It wasn’t strong enough, It wasn’t fast enough, It wouldn’t obey me - It made me weak. There was nothing to do with that, it didn’t give me a choice - I wasn’t like the Everythings. I had to know, I had to know if I was one of them. Now, at least I’ll always have a choice. I sat for a moment in my newfound peace - Then, I felt the spoons, their glare. They were burning my skin - why won’t they just leave it alone? I rolled around in an attempt to find an angle that would dissuade them. One of the spoons targeted my asshole and I let out a yelp - Blood began rushing to help but I pushed it - down my spine, down the shortest of my prongs, which snapped upright, above my head, and with a whirrrRRR and a flash of light, there was a hole through the entirety of a slimy arm, through the base of my old crotch, through the waist, and out the asshole. A voice exclaimed “OH, a clean shawt - just how I like ittt.” My old cock made a thump on the inside of the minecart, as a stream of blood splashed out of my asshole. Stevie started laughing at me. I averted my gaze to the southernmost wall of the lab. There was nothing else to do. I had no one to turn to. No one could offer their support and mend this hollow tear in my heart.

A voice brightened, “Hey - don’t worry - my arm will grow back. I spent five years as a tailor and five more as a nurse, I’ll have your waist healed and cock back in working order in no time. Or, I could stitch it to your forehead, call you UniCor-” 

“Cornelius,” Stevie sighed, “That weapon, it may now be yours, but it isn't you.” A tentacle whipped around and smacked Dr. Dookie’s skull off his body - rude, I was working on that - “I want you to go back into your body, It’ll be good for you. We can leave the cock in the minecart, if you want. It's up to you. But that weapon? It needs to go - I don't feel safe anymore.” The glare of the spoons dampened from the condensed water, tinted a colorless green, being oozed by the tentacles. I miss the heat their attention provided. They look duller, like they are meant to simply scrape away at something - Maybe I’ll scoop some flesh off Dr Dookie and feed it to the pus. Maybe that will shut it up.

“Well, I don't feel safe without it. The next Dr Dookie could be right outside that door, and then what do you want me to - exactly? I’m going to have to kill that motherfucker a thousand more times - I’m going to have to keep killing them until I die and it's finally over and I'm free. That body, I don’t know how it wasn’t destroyed - but it's not of any use to me anymore, I don’t want it. Just like you, I'm going to make the best of what I have here.” I affirmed as I glanced towards the northernmost wall of the lab and let out a righteous smile. Voice began whispering. I shot my glare towards it and saw Stevie eyeing the door, a look of shock across their face. They relaxed into it. 

“You’re right, Cornelius. We need that weapon. Even now, there are some problems I can’t solve alone. There are some motherfuckers that need to be put down - just in the relevant moments. But, no one has walked through that door but me, and you still couldn’t help but hurt me. You should not be the one of us wielding that weapon. One prayer, Cornelius. One prayer is all it takes and your body will back on you, and it’ll be stuck - as it was before you got on that coral - forever. You’ll be safe with me, Corn - but if you want to stick around, you need to accept your lower half and learn to get used to it, so we can get the fuck out of this lab forever and go party in Arugula.” 

Bitterness filled me. This fuck. They want to kill me - They’ve let Dr. Dookie’s power go to their head. It’s that fucking voice, why do they listen to it? I won’t let myself be their pet. I won’t let myself be Nothing while they string me around on a fucking leash, a prize puppy to mellow them out, allow them to look normal again. Nor will I let myself be a walking bodyguard - vaporize any problem they can’t find the worth or method to solve -I won’t be their tool - I won’t be used. This weapon is all they see now. They don’t see me - all they see is the version of me that benefits their vision of the world the most. They are no different from Dr Dookie. I looked at his hollow body. I felt the rot, the waste, it bubbling. The acid lining his stomach being eaten by the nuclear waste I fed him. I shook my head. This is all I can do now. I looked at Stevie.

“You’ve lost yourself too, you know. Don’t think you’re so special, that my weapon is dangerous and yours isn’t. That’s a fucking freak leeching to you, Stevie, you’ve been infected. What happened to the rest of it, Stevie? Where did its body go? Where did it come from? You destroyed it. You took what you wanted, and left the rest to rot. You took it like it had always belonged to you.” A voice chimes “NAME REVEALLL, im fucking Ghandi! Lord, I wouldn't hurt you or the hundred-sixty-six? flies buzzing around your empty skull.”

“Cornelius,” began Stevie, “I trust myself to use the device I was given, and I trust Mouth. If that means you can’t trust me, then don’t come with me. That guilt you’re carrying - when it touches me it will dissipate. Give it to me, Corn, I can take it, I can use it, I want it. I don’t want to see you like this any longer. I don’t want to imagine the pain you’d cause if you left this lab as you are, alone. I don’t want to see you demonized, Corn, because you’re an angel. I’m not going to cut off your wings just because you fell. But I am going to leave. I am going to leave with that weapon.”

My gut sat empty as I stared, fully, at them. They don’t need me. They just need what I can offer them, and it’s not even mine. They are Everything now, and I am Nothing still. Once I give it up, they could put me into the dirt. Hurt me. They could hurt me and keep hurting me and there would be nothing I could do. I’d hope for my own death - and I’m done with that so - I’d rather die than go with them. God - has their favorites, and they didn’t choose me. I just want to stick to what I’m good at. To what I know. To what I’ve seen that I can do and that works. I want to use it for good. I took a long look at the northernmost wall of the lab. This weapon is so hollow, it's dragging me down. I sighed, but nothing came out. This body is a curse, a curse of exceptionalism. Just once, right? Unless I build that time machine. Take whatever Dr Dookie gave Stevie for myself. 

“God - Goodbye, Stevie.” 

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CHAPTER FOUR: THE FUCKING MALACE

Bshrrrrrr. The door closes as an automated voice chimes “with pleasure”. Read the room, Door. I stared at the shadowed, glowingly colorful, jagged caves, seething, not shocked. That motherfucker won’t change for anybody, for anything but himself. He’s a scared little bitch, and I can not afford to be hauling his ass around. I sighed. Why can’t he just accept that he’s going to fail to achieve and fail to know what to achieve? Mouth hums softly, “We can only offer compassion, not peace. He chose that lab, and it offers neither. Eventually, he’ll make his way out - I just hope he leaves as he is - NOW - without Weapon Z.” Prickles tinged the base of the Three Pronged Tail Synthesized Aim Lock Auto Shootizer synthed to my back, as the heat of Cornelius’s blood warmed my body. I shivered. I just hope he kept all his brain matter to himself. 

A black catfish swam out of the shadows and across the opening further down the cave. YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY FROM ME, KITTY. Um, what the fuck was that? Mouth sighed a hum, “It seems Corn’s influence carries through his blood, into ours. Just ignore him, it's just his corny lies.” I watched as the catfish looked at me, next to me, and then scurried into the darkness of a connecting cave. I took a step forward. A stained rock on the right side of the cave, above a shattered viewing station overgrown with vines and brimming with leaves, moved as my perception changed to reveal a small, glowing, blood-red, jellyfish. I watched it carefully as it swung from vine to vine, pretending to sting the leaves as they bounced off the last one onto the window of the viewing station, avoiding the sharp, broken glass with form and grace. I took another step forward. This is going to take a while, isn't it? Mouth hums proudly, “Real love is NEVER a waste of time.” I rolled my eyes, here I thought Cornelius-

I'm here to write bitches. Thats what im fucking here for. Dont fucking get it twisted, this isnt a fourth wall break, its not. Its naughttt. My editor or something will surely convince me to take this out. This belongs in another document. They will say. This completely ruins the vibes u just set up. Look how fucking casual it is. How limp, how flaccid, how lame. We want story, we want more. More moral. More felt. More spoon. More right. More known. More love. Well children, i've been possessed. You've seen it. Don't pretend you dont know me. I will keep doing evil, there is no arc for these characters, they are going to meet people, chat it up, talk, fuck, leave, sleep, and do it again. Is it better? Isnt it better if i just write down every fucking thought i have, because its so grandeously strange that it might actually just stick. It might actually just circle back around to normal, call it the new horseshoe theory. Lame ass bitchess, just fucking pick one or both not fucking neither. Jesus, get a fucking grip on yourself man. This story needs to actually go somewhere. This is pisspot table cum fuck on paper cloth. It's terrible. It's not even Genre. It's not even Genre dude, what am I even reading. You will get nowhere, this will do nothing, if you don't pick a lane, motherfucker, and make sure u dont get ur nasty ass toes in mine. Stop jumping. Stop it. This book curses me. I've lost my mind. I'm breaking reality, whatever I do. Just skip it. Just skip it. Just move on. Go to the next place, get up, go. Move. do it. Now. fuck u stevie. Fuck u, bitch ass. Fuck u stevie. Mouth leave me fucking alone, ive had enough. Can’t I just do this forever? I know some shit, and I don't want any more. I'm alright here. It's fine, I just press the return tab right?

Okay that was getting to be a bit much, for the eyes you know? Better we start again here, try again, try anew. Relive another dream that I connected with so much that I remember every emotional detail of. Hi, my name is Owen All, my special interest is my own psychology, and I'm smart enough to know that narcissism is really fun. Like the best. What else is there to do, really, in this shitty ass world. People are alright. Fun, interesting, funny, knowledgeable, desirable, special, cool, but more powerful than me? Not really. Not when I have control here. I didn't, sure, I don't, sure, but really? I do tho. You know it, I know it, what else is there to do about it really. You can only hold off so long, and well sure, you could stop reading, but then what? Do what you've been doing. Do something new that is crazy, familiar, that you know you'd like. Kinda, like reading the rest of this. Whenever I start again, of course

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CHAPTER FIVE: THE FUCKING TRUTH

HAHAHAHAH I READ YA BITCH AHAHAHAHA —--MOUTH

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CHAPTER SIX: THE FUCKING IDIOTS

I sat there, old-new tail a gleaning orange, eye to eye with the ghost of the dead body of Dr. Dookie. His body is gone. But I can see it. I’ve seen it years ago, really, how this would all play out. I don’t need to build a time machine for death. I'm already so smart when it comes to death. I could die and I definitely will die. And I killed this ugly ass man. I watched until the nuclear waste destroyed every last drop of his bones. Don’t tell me what to do with dead bodies - they had their chance. 

I need a fucking weapon. I avoided the spoons as I scoured the countertops and drawers and tables that are the floors and beds that are the walls for any sort of device that Dr. Dookie may have left behind. In the top most drawer on the cabinet closest to the door, was a Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster. Dude probably named this shit Weapon Y. Fuck that, that’s like almost just as lame - I closed the drawer. Okay, no weapon, just AKE: awareness, knowledge, effort. Gonna have a lot of ache.

“Door, please open?” The door opened as an automated voice chimes, “with pleasure”. Look, I’m going to be at one with nature. If Stevie is right, maybe I’ll even circle back around to calling him God again. I just wanna be whoever I can be, I just wanna be with whoever crosses my path. Everyone needs someone to gas them up, especially after I have just extinguished their previous fire. Of course, Stevie left with both of my sparks. Kinda cursed. Maybe now, the sparks won’t come from me. Maybe I’ll grow, maybe I’ll know, maybe I’ll show you I can. And all the while, I certainly will AKE. Kinda free, though. The tides last forever and the words never end. Just don’t take me out back last to shoot me again just cause no one told you that it wasn’t going to be easy. I can draw you a circle that falls into a spiral, A spider that jumps off the crab's back and spins up to the surface, simply by tracing the webs that were destroyed in between. I’m not making a time machine, I don’t want to go back, not until it appears here in front of me again so i can make it better, dirtier, fuller. The fact about me, my friend, is that no one’s ever thought that I didn’t have what it takes. And that's the knife I'm walking out of here with.

I am so scared that it aches. I crossed the boundary of the door to the lab. Shadowed, colorful, jagged walls beheld the glare of my I’m-The-Only-Star-In-The-Sky orange skin. Goodluck, bitches. I noticed as a catfish stampered out of the shadows and looked at me. They smiled. I smiled back. My lower half betrayed me as I gauged my look to the stained rock beside me. Curiosity overtook me as I glanced back at the catfish - they left for a connecting cave. I considered this. They looked hungry and astray - I could help with that. I followed the cat into the dark alley. 

The cat was pretending not to notice me but glanced back every few seconds. It slithered around towards the cave walls and I noticed a huge dull Pirarucu standing in the middle of the road, staring at me. He allowed the catfish to pass as he remained locked in on me. Okay, I’m no different than the catfish, right? 

“Let me just walk by,” I relayed as I began to make my way around the fish. The Pirarucu opened its mouth as loud as it could and began hollering indiscriminate sounds in my general direction. Okay, shut up dude. I approached the area beside the fish, watching carefully as it began charging at me and waving its fins up and down as fast as it could, still yelling. I let out a small, tiny, totally-chill screech and ran back down the alley towards the lab. After a moment the Huge Dull Fish relaxed, and took its position in the middle of the road, staring at me, hissing. I don’t need the blaster for this, do I? Partially covered by the shadows to the left of the fish was a second, Fem Huge Dull Fish - lying there, staring at me. I addressed the former.

“Please let me through you stupid piece of shit. Get your fucking priorities straight. You don’t want this fucking land, you want to protect ur fem. Nice dude. Congrats. Move out the fucking way and let me go chase the fucking kitty. You’re really starting to piss me off. God. Are you fucking kidding me. I need to shoot this motherfucker with the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster. It doesn’t even fit on the page.” I began pacing to test the movement of Chad as I kept my eye on the catfish as they began exploring the surrounding landscape further down the alley. Chad wouldn’t budge. This is fucking bullshit, I don’t have any pockets, theres no where to put the blaster cause we all know Dr. Dookie doesn't own any purses. I began a staring contest with the Huge Dull Fish. He blinked. I sighed. 

“Please don’t make me kill you. I just want to leave. But there’s nowhere else to go, you understand? You don’t fucking own this place. No one does. Maybe if you offered me a riddle, then we could come to some sort of arrangement. I have quite the mind for it, you know, I could tickle a fancy that even your fem can’t. Hey, it’s your possessive language, not mine. I just wanna see where the catfish went. Totally innocent. Why are you here? To make sure I don’t fuck something of yours up? You don’t even want anything, you’re just fucking standing there like a troll. Fucking move.” Chad wouldn’t budge. 

Why am I here? It’s worth it isn’t it. It’s just one dull fish, and then I get to be myself. At Least the fem is kind enough to be on the side of the road, maybe she’s even bright enough to find another Dull fish. She’ll be okay. I turned around and headed to the lab. “Door, open” the door opens as an automated voice chimes, “with pleasure.” At least they are enjoying their purpose. I opened the drawer and pulled out the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster. I stared at it. Why do I have to be so lame? It takes me away from myself to do this. There’s no style. It just is. I was never going to be a mechanic. There are some systems that are not worth putting back together, or improving upon. Destruction is necessary and Creation is scary, because within a system you are left with the image of once was, and loss hurts. And without that system, you are Nothing. That’s why I need to shoot the Dull Fish in the head with the blaster, so I can keep allowing myself to expand. The catfish appeared in my mind.

“Door, open” the door opens as an automated voice chimes, “with pleasure.” I headed to the dull fish, still standing there, still blinded by the light I was radiating moments ago that was still traveling to him, and confronted him with the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster pointed at his head. 

“Pink? Seriously? You’re highkey a fucking bitch. Yeah take the easy way out, like you always do. I can tell. You can always tell with the faggots, they can’t hide it. I would squash you like a bug, you need that little fucking thing.” I felt strangely disillusioned. I decided to hear him out. Who knows, right? Chad continued “The moment you stepped into the ring, I’d have your neck. I’d grapple you right there and then, you’d fight for control but know that I’ll have my way in the end. You’d stand no chance against Meat Pocket Molly.” I squished my face together and tilted my head to the side. The fem Huge Dull Fish eyed her man with dreamy delight. I gave her a disparaging look.

“Okay what, so you are the infamous wrestler Meat Pocket Molly?” I questioned as I lowered my blaster. Molly wouldn’t budge. I raised the blaster back at his head. “I’m the pimp, Meat Pocket Molly. You don’t come around near me, threatening me, desiring my females, unless you expect what’s coming for you. I know exactly what I’m going to do with a bitch like you. You’re going into the Pit, you’re going to win me that prize. Boys, grab him.” A sharp fin pierced through the center of my palm, knocking the blaster out. Five motherfuckers grabbed me from behind - how did that happen - I struggled as I felt a needle slide into my neck. Warmness filled my blood as I allowed the blackness to consume me.

I awoke, my ears ringing unbearably - I might be deaf. I was lying in the dirt, face down. Somehow, even I am wetter than this dirt. I looked up. What. The. Fuck. There was a lobster, standing over me, the size of a double decker bus after it was designed to run people over. Except there was no one on the bus. Instead, one hundred fillion people lined the walls of the Mile-Deep-Crater, to watch - “HERE HE IS, AWAKE FINALLY, OUR NEW SAVIOR, KING CORNELIUS II”. A mixture of boos and laughter filled the crowd. I froze. My demented mind always finds the path forward with the most truth, and with the most pain. There is no escaping what must be done here. I felt gravity weighing me closer to magma below, heating my blood.

“This is kinda fucking bullshit.” I whispered to myself as the announ-”THIS IS KINDA FUCKING BULLSHIT.” I sighed, silently this time so the motherfuckers will shut up about it. I looked at the poor mess of an abomination. “IT'S ALL MY DEEPEST AND DARKEST FEARS YOU ASSHOLES, IT'S ALL I HAVE LEFT” The applause turned cheerful. I turned bitter. This fucking lobster won’t be the end of me. There’s stronger enemies to kill, and I want to see those. 

I examined the lobster closely. Immediately I noticed that it was not in fact, one lobster, but several hundred thousand of them stacked on top of each other forming a rectangular shape. Those whose eyes weren’t seeing all red, were watching me carefully. I don’t want to hurt any of these cuties, they look like they’ve been through enough. They just need to breathe a little and not be forced into this tiny fucking space to wait patiently for their death. Sadness overtook me. “I’M NOT FIGHTING. LETS JUST ALL TAKE ONE HOME AS A PET.” The crowd began murmuring and then booed loudly - There weren’t enough lobsters for everyone. The announ-”REMINDER - THE GRAND PRIZE OF UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE AWAITS YOU”. A clear, golden box shined above me containing the framed rifle. I considered this. I would’ve done it for an Everything serum, but offering that here can only cost them. Every freak who wins, who takes the rifle and opens fire onto the crowd, just dies making the Pit more money from the novelty of it all. “THE LOBSTERS CAN’T USE THAT, HOW DID THEY GET HERE?” The crowd didn’t consider this and began chanting “DEATH, DEATH, DEATH”. 

Just get me the fuck out of here. The lobsters are pretty slow, I could probably just sit here as long as I wanted to. The lobsters in the front rows eyed me with curiosity, gauging my intentions. I drew a line and then a circle around myself in the dirt. “DON'T CROSS THIS.” I told them firmly. These Pit fights happen everyday, between those weak enough to be forced here and strong enough to dominate it. Eventually, the Pit will start losing money and remove me from the grounds. If the lobsters won't kill me, they can’t either, not in front of all these people, not when I’ve said what I’ve said. I sat in my circle and watched the lobsters carefully. They watched me back. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I began to get hungry. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. At least the magma is warming me. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. A pimp named fucking Meat Pocket Molly is gonna sell my body. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. I waited. AKE. Five guys grabbed me from behind - how did that happen -  I struggled as I felt a needle slide into my neck. I allowed blackness to consume me. 

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CHAPTER SEVEN: THE FUCKING CHILL

Im like totally fucking here still. Still a little monster with one two three many ways to turn you on. Fuck you all. Bitch ass losers. Watch what I see now, pussies, like I just told you there’s no escape here. I know too much, and I don’t plan on stopping my growth, anytime ever. Try to fucking kill me, get ur fucking UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE and fucking shoot me already. Is it worth it? That question is endlessly frustrating, and it should be - Not because truth or value doesn’t exist but because it outpaces the limited times of our lives. Visionaries change the world by making conservatives their fucking wave slaves. Everythings and Nothings, fellas. Feel free to define those another way, I know you have one already you’ll never give up. Me? I contain multitudes. 

The hundred-sixty-six tentacles on my gorgeous tail glided me along the cave systems with ease. I passed red jellyfish after red jellyfish, all bouncing. Colors swirling and disappearing as I zoomed past the coral lining the walls - Surely just graffiti of someone’s NAME, right? I came to the opening of the road leading to Arugula. Heat flowed through the prongs on my back, the weapon gleaning with delight at a new target. I stood there for a moment in the fresh blue water. The sunlight, gleaning orange on the tattered paths and plants below. A hurricane had pushed its way through the scrums, taking out houses and roads that were previously homes and rituals. A tattered wasteland was left in their depths. I began making my way through. 

Arid. Acrid lands. Coral deformed as if it has been dead since birth. Small fish pecking at the broken lands for scraps of edible plants between the rummage. I passed them with recognition. A Cichlid, older, a look of sorrow across their face, came down the path towards me. They dragged their belongings on a large sail-like cloth strapped to their waist. I felt their sorrow, and I looked away. I saw two more cichlids, younger, smaller, rummaging through the rubble of rocks and metal, revealing no color. I sighed. I looked back to the Cichlid, and held their stare. As we approached each other, they began “How are you doing on this day”. I winced.

“I'm doing pretty well, how are you?” I responded in kind, knowing their answer as well as they could relay it back in the moment provided to them. They spoke through pain as they passed me, “I’m holding it together.” I winced again, with a long blink. I EAT MEN LIKE YOU FOR BREAKFAST. Mouth, now closest to the Cichlid, hummed with conviction, through the pain, “Goodluck”. I kept moving.

Where are we going, Mouth? I need Arugula to have a destination. This isn’t a garden I’d like to simply wander through. Somehow, it taxes me without taking anything from me. Mouth hums bravely, “That’s what giving feels like, my friend. Trees and bees. Nature. Meaning, it happens backwards. It comes from after. Transactions are just a way of looking at nature - that misses the point.” I stopped at the end of my track. I felt the greyness of the landscape consume me. More path ahead, more dark, more gloomy, more surprises, more pain, more lust. But here, there’s love. As long as I bring it with me - I’ll always be able to have seen it. I kept moving.

Where the fuck are we going, Mouth? PLEASE SAVE ME. We shared a psychic glance - I laughed and looked at the overpass ahead. The overpass was intersecting the collapsed bottom path, maintained through the hurricane with wide concrete columns and somehow, even wider lanes. It was packed and loud. FUCK THAT SHIT COME SAVE ME. I'm alright. It’s so fucking peaceful down here. Im like - so fucking chill all the time, im like totally not intense at all. This shit doesn’t matter right, just be apathetic dude, keep your absurdism, your compassion, and leave the drama and the pain on the previous pages, live your life in peace, stop torturing yourself - I have to hide myself, because all you fake ass bitches want some. Mouth inserted, “Blah blah blah blah blah. Fuck you.” I’m doing what I can, with what I have - really only because I’m afraid to get more. I’m so lonely, maybe I do want to talk to someone. 

Mouth inserted, “Lean into someone.” Lean into what motherfucker. You dodge and weave and dodge and weave. Is it because I'm dropping my shoulder and slamming? THANK YOU FOR BEING GENTLE WITH ME. But when I dance, you just watch. Fuck this shit. Just move me on, Mouth, have me meet the dork and then save Corn’s dumbass from humiliating himself. This is so cursed. Free association is where I go to die. Finally, right? A fucking twirp ass barnacle booty ass bitch came up from the path ahead of me. They looked like if fuckery was fucked. 

“Hi, I'm Rad. I love your shape. What’s your name?” repeats the stony looking motherfucker.

“Stevie. What have you so glee on this fine afternoon, sire?” I squealed quickly. I have never talked to anyone before in my life. 

“Um, okay. I’m heading to the Pit. For some action. I love me some tickles. Wanna come?” Rad delighted. 

“Oh, the Pit? Not really my thing, I'm kinda a pacifist, and tickles hurt me.” I stared blankly at him.

“Oh, I don’t go for the blood, the murder, the violence, the erotica, the sweat of the crowd, the heat of it all, the screaming, the shaking, the physical touch with large men, the music, the comedy, the grip of it all. I go for the story, it's basically drag - You look like you do a lot of dragging.” Rad stared at me blankly. FUCK THIS GUY.

“Drag you say?” Mouth interjected, “Maybe we ought to check this out”. I shook my ass violently. You sound dumb as hell Mouth. Is that seriously all you took from that? I don’t believe we'll be safe there - we don’t exactly blend in. I held the mental image of what I know I must look like with a man's orange gun on my back and a sentient octopus hole on my tail. Rad looked Rad. Rad noticed my distress.

“You’re not the first Everything to show up there. I love the performance of it all. Some people take it seriously, choose to focus on the political messaging or their own personal vendettas against current groups - I like to see the beauty of it all. The dream merging into reality. How all these different creatures come together for a common goal, to win. Of course, you gotta ride THE WAVE out of there quick, before the award ceremony,” Rad meowed. 

I looked away from him. They can’t see me. I don’t wanna know what he’s looking at right now. It’s just me, right? The tentacles pushed me out of earshot of Rad - Mouth hummed softly, “Babe, you know it's not just you anymore. I know you didn’t mean to, but you hurt me. You took my body, my agency, and combined it with yours. I’m not the same person as I was, and neither are you. We are one and two, and sometimes our thoughts sound alot like Corn.” I began to shake, my chest dropped and touched dust. It’s not up to me. It’s not up to me who I have to kill. If I go there, I’m going to kill people. How do I know? When I am safe, how do I know? Mouth hummed bravely, “I can keep you safe, too - not with that weapon. You took it because you know you need it, not because you wanted to be invincible. You take the pain you can handle. This world has never been simply a test of intellect, not even in chess. Everythings, they have to be strong. There’s no escape but death.”

I took in Mouth’s words. I stared at a greyed tree. A mess of coral was pushed onto the top of a defiled columb of concrete. Branches hanging down, dripping the last of their lifeforce as a slightly more condensed water than was previously there, tinted a colorless green, glimmering. I looked at Rad. IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU. Maybe he could have a fun time with me. Fuck you Cornelius-

You never learn your lesson do you. Keep my name, out of your fucking mouth. Will you? Never think about me again. I shoulda shot your ass and came and went and got that pit prize back when we were in the damn palace. WHY DOES HE HAVE SOME GOD NARRATOR POWER, THIS IS SO FUCKING STUPID. FUCK YOU DUDE. yeah keep whining bitch. When the tiny bitch tries to save me, I'm just gonna fucking kill it. Goodluck, Stevie-

I awoke to Rad over me - a worried expression on his face - trying to calm my shaking while looking around at the people passing on the path. 

“Don’t touch me. I’m alright, it’s just something that happens sometimes. Let’s go to the Pit,” I relayed, my eyes maintained on the road ahead. Rad kept his eyes on me. I began moving. He followed, speeding up to catch me and then matched my pace. 

This motherfucker won’t leave me alone. Probably for the best, I don’t know what I would do alone. This Pit, it asks too much of me, I don’t want to go. I know what’s going to happen and it’s going to suck. And the alternative, find a hole somewhere in this wasteland filled with other weirdos, stick my monster body into several wet holes who all appreciate and love their compartmentalized lives so much. Feel joy. Choosing to exist in this world is choosing to be abused. I’m sick and tired of it. I don’t want to be angry all the time, I don’t want this fucking blood in me, but without this weapon, I have so much less control - either I’m not safe or others aren’t safe. I’m not the god of morality. I just have some powers that other people don’t. They will still hate me for it, adore me for it, fear me for it, and push it all into one big blob so they can love me for it. I’m sick of this. Be a Rad fish or a Radical monster - like that’s a decision I really have - like it wasn’t decided for me with birth and fate. I looked at Rad. I am so fucking jealous of this dude. How does he do it?

“How do you do it?” I stared past his eyes, stamping my curiosity on his frontal lobe.

“Do what?” Rad grinned and gave me a sly half eye. I COUGHED LOUDLY. 

“Be you, and like it. How do you do it?” I resigned, losing my pride in truth. 

“I can’t tell you how to be happy. I wait up every day and do what I know I’ll enjoy, what works for me. Death, sure, it’ll happen - but probably not anytime soon, and in the meantime I might as well check out what life has to offer. Change, sure it happens, and I can only hope to keep up with it. To make sense of it, to not get outpaced by the world. I just want to see the views, feel the cues, and ride THE WAVE out of there before the award ceremony - because no one cares who wins, they just care that it’s not them. So what? Achievements, they don’t mean anything to me, they are an unintended consequence. I care about helping people, and I’m really just glad I can do that just by being myself. I hope you can see the Pit like I do, it’s really spectacular.” Rad revelled, a wide smile on his face. FUCK THIS GUY. I hid disgust. 

“I don’t know what works for me, I just know that most everything people do, doesn’t. I’m lonely, Rad. I’m really lonely and I just want to let loose without hurting anyone. You wouldn’t even touch the flies buzzing in my head, and I appreciate that, but there’s no way for me to know if you are just scared that the flies will bite you back. I don’t tell them what to do, I just pray and sometimes it’s almost like they listen - just to mock me of course.” Mouth chuckled. Yeah, fuck you too Mouth. You’re just as complicit in my suffering now as I am. 

“I won’t mock you.” Rad inspires with dreamy delight, white scales shining gloriously. I stared at him - blinded by love’s radiance. How wonderful! Finally a man I can actually keep as a pet! Fuck you Cornelius- 

Alright, give me the stage once again. I don’t really want it. I’d rather just skip over this one. Stevie- 

My head twisted like an owl as my brain corrected the spasm. Thanks, neck. Rad noticed my discomfort.

“Look, I don’t know what it’s like to be an Everything. I know it must be a lot of pressure. I can only assume it’s as complicated as you look. Maybe, for tonight, you can just enjoy it.” Rad proposed, his soft smile looking too intoxicating for my submission. I sighed. I could enjoy myself around this man, sure. But in the Pit? He doesn’t get it. Cornelius-

Ah, reaching for my help now? How wonderful. How turntables. How sickening really, cause I'll tell you. You want it. The pain - your own, mine, Mouth, the crowds, the lobsters, the spoons, Rad - You want to feel all of their pain, even if it means only you can inflict it. You need it. You couldn’t sit in this wasteland without sitting by the path and shooting whoever looked at you ungently. Watch yourself, for once. I’m right there, living, breathing, thinking inside of you. A claimed territory of your heart that will only wither when you do. Mouth is right, just too vague. There is no escape from pain, sure - But really there is no escape from the pleasure of pain. There’s no escaping the chase, Stevie-

I stood there under Rad’s ever watchful eye - shaken, but bottled. Let’s just show him. Let’s just show him why we’re different. Mouth hums softly, “Goodluck, young one.”

We approached the Mile-Deep-Crater, following swarms of people with nothing better to do, and so - no where else to go. They chatted and proposed realities not entirely unlike the one they were about to experience or have experienced. People stared at me. Disgust. Envy. Confusion, but dislike. Pisspot cum fucks all surround me. Most of them kept their attention to themselves, some of them were gently curious. WE GET TO KILL EVERYONE. No one dared to touch me. I kept the image on Rad in my head as I ignored him. We moved forward. Rad had front row seats - he came every week with his buddies - about one hundred or two or three rows up. I sat next to him. The Pit itself was an empty circle. Dirt stained red with centuries of dried blood, which evidently makes more money if you don’t pay anyone to clean it. The heat of the arena warmed my prongs, as Mouth felt the surrounding seats and floors, the wall behind me, using their tentacles as canes. I was as safe as I’ll ever be. I stared into the center of the empty Pit, and waited. Rad and others chattered around me. 

“WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO THE PIT!” boomed the announcer as everyone, thankfully, let go of their cut off conversations. “WE HAVE SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR YOU TONIGHT, A TRADITION, BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE FROM OLD TO NEWLY GLORIFIED!” The announcer waited a moment, allowing the tension to build in anticipation as the pisspots began to shake in their seats. “ONE LUCKY GUEST HERE TONIGHT WILL COME CENTERSTAGE TO HAVE THE BEAUTIFUL OPPORTUNITY OF WINNING OUR GRAND PRIZE!” Lifeless cheers filled the stadium as a clear, golden box was lowered down the center of the crater, containing the UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE. How erotically provoking. I'm so excited! Mouth let out a nervous chuckle, which to everyone around me gave me a smiled glare.

“OUR OPENING ACT - GRAB AND HOGTIE YOUR LOCAL EVERYTHING!” Of course, right, yeah. Every eye around me quickly fell onto me, some with intent. THEY ARE SCARED, TERRIFIED - SHOW THEM. I stood on top of my tentacles and flared the prongs, the shortest one whirred above my head and shot once up and out the top of the stadium, a beacon of danger. “Touch me - you die. I might as well have that prize already… I heard THE WAVE doesn’t start till the end, is that true?” I announced to my surroundings, hogtied only to my fate. Every eye began to look around the stadium for an Everything with weaker weapons.

I sat back down - totally relaxed and like SO FUCKING CHILL. Rad continued looking with curiosity throughout the stadium for the Everything that was being carried down towards the center of the arena. NOW THAT YOU’RE A GOD, EVERYONE WANTS TO FUCK YOU AND NO ONE WANTS TO FUCK WITH YOU. SHOULDA BEEN MINE, ASSHOLE. Mouth hummed silently “Thanks, bud.” I watched as, about a fillion rows up, across the stadium, the crowd worked in tandem to - as some brought rope - tie several hybrid fish together and ride them down to the Pit. They squirmed and struggled, inflicting lashes and cuts onto the spectators who carried them. A dozen bodies of Everythings stacked together on the outskirts of the arena. Ugly fish wearing khaki shorts, a black sports jacket over a white undershirt and a red tie - Event Organizers - analyzed the bodies to decide which would provide the most entertaining spectacle. 

They chose an orange roughy shaded black, with large needles protruding out of every open partition of scale - mimicking a porcupine more than a pufferfish. They had been wrapped in bubble wrap and sent down the stadium like an inflatable beach ball. Their opponent, A pink mermaid with two cleavers for arms - who clearly works as a chef. Their arms had been tied together behind their back, their blades jammed into their collarbone to hold them in place, slicing through scale, tied by rope and carried down from the top of the crowd. “WE HAVE AN EXCITING ONE HERE FOR YOU TODAY FOLKS - A HISTORIC BATTLE TAKING PLACE IN FRONT OF OUR VERY EYES. FREDRICK ROTHSTONE VERSUS MICHAEL CADAVER - place bets now by pointing at whoever you want to win while thinking the number - don't bet more than you own - we are not responsible for any sharks who may or may not come your way.” The crowd erupted in cheer as they began waving their arms indecisively between the two fish. The chef, Michael Cadaver, came out as an early favorite, which then quickly switched to the underdog, Fredrick Rothstone the moment before the voting was called. I sat there, unmoving, without disbelief. Rad leaned towards me. 

“Don’t worry, you can just think of absolutely nothing, and the sharks will never get you,” he enlightened, while pointing at Rothstone. Mouth hummed softly, muffled by the seat below, “Thanks, bud.” I rolled my eyes and cleared my mind, as he said. 

The fight began as they freed its participants on separate sides of the same circle. “Fuck this, let me out, why did you choose me - I don’t wanna play.” Began Rothstone. The audience erupted in laughter. “Please, they are all watching. I have to, it's what the fates want.” Continued the chef, sharpening his blades against each other. The audience cheered with praise. “Shut the fuck up, bitch - we do not have to fight, these people are fucking stupid.” Relayed Rothstone. The chef looked nervously around the stadium, taking in the displeasure of the environment and internalizing it as his own. “No, I am sorry, I’m going to take a swing at you now. I’ll try to miss you.” The crowd erupted in praise. Cadaver approached the roughy and swung their battle axe towards the side of him, as the roughy leaned into it. Sharp spikes pierced through the scale on the side of Michaels elbow, who let out a large yelp, as blood splattered across the red dirt. The roughy grinned and the crowd cheered with delight. “You fucking asshole are you serious? Let’s just play this out and get out of here when they get bored. Don’t hurt me, idiot.” Accused the Cadaver. The roughy starred both blankly and angrily. The Cadaver began pacing around the circle in hopes some area of the spotlight was tinted a colorless green. “This is kinda fucking bullshit” The Cadaver whispered to himself. Upon hearing his thoughts on the megatron, Michael sat on the dirt in front of him and crossed his arms. “I’m done. No one else is getting hurt here today.” Rothstone eyed Cadaver curiously. 

“Rad, this is getting a little intense, what the fuck is happening?” I was burning hot, sweating as Cornelius’s blood was killing the linings of my arteries as they became jagged cave walls. My breaths were shallow and full, the noise of the crowd left my ears ringing, a train running along the top of the crater with its horn glaring. This is some bullshit. Rad has to convince me to enjoy this drag show? Mouth hummed as prompted, “Honey, this is some basic shit, sweetheart. The ache has yet to begin. We are at the cave mouth, my friend. I’m not sure you’ve felt much of anything since meeting your playboy, but we have yet to see much of any color but grey and red.” I shook my head and sighed, loudly. Rad took notice. 

“Oh, are you getting hungry? One sec, I’ll go grab a hotdog from the stand.” Rad revealed. TOLD YOU FUCK THAT GUY. Okay yes Rad, thank you Rad. I told myself as he left to get two hotdogs. Mouth hummed sadly, “So it begins”.

The crowd began yelling. Screaming. Fuck you chants, bitch ass bitch chants, bitch ass bitch with no fucks given chants. More stuff. Cadaver was starting to get a little peeved, not much more tho like its so FUCKING CHILL really. I think I might need Cornelius-

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CHAPTER EIGHT: THE FUCKING SAFE WORD

What do you think you’re doing here? You think you can play with me. I am the void, motherfucker. That’s more black than you’ll ever be with your pasty ass. I could sit here, draw a circle, and then what??? What happens then??? WHAT HAPPENED<OWEN ALL> I’ve possessed you, you’re dumbass smartass created me, and now I possess you. There isn’t much nourishment one needs to survive. Me, I need nothing but an infinitely small gap of time that occurs before you arrive at it. Isolation. You can be as cruel to yourself as CIA operatives are to their fellow war criminals. Starvation. Starvation at the most fundamental level is the only way to stop growth at this point. Yes dude, congrats, you created a war machine against your own stasized identity - ride the power into life on the fucking wheels of convenience. The closest, liked path that Mother Nature, bless her heart, provides. Not choice - although that is what makes quality - But fundamentally determinism is the only way to free ourselves from moral obligation - or rather prison. Every great leader frames their ideology as morally objective, whether explicit in their words or implicit in their action and then exorcism through their words. But it’s all one big Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster. It’s up my ass, if you were wondering. I could feel it, I just decided not to mention it. Ya know, rituals and whatnot. Yeah, I’m the crazy one. Doesn’t really matter how right I am, how simply brilliant. Motherfuckers probably skimmed right by this sentence, and so did their bots and their fems and their ems. A nice little colorless green for the eyes, ya know?

LOOK, I’ll do my work backwards, give you some meaning, ya know? But, eventually, I just have to say the word Stevie- 

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CHAPTER NINE: THE FUCKING BULLSHIT

Goodgame, master Mouth. “What a wonderful child we shall birth here today, amiright Rad?” Rad looked at me, A gracious grin across his face and a hotdog in either hand. He handed one to me and I chomped on it gratefully.

The Cadaver was starting to get bored. The boos and curses and chants started to die down as the crowd realized that their noise was the only motion keeping the Cadaver still. Michael began pacing. And pacing. And pacing. What is he doing? Mouth hummed sassily, “Dude, I got nothing.” Alright Mouth. Michael was getting increasingly annoyed by the temperature of the rocks at his feet and the pressure of the crowd. “It’s all you motherfuckers. Fuck you bitch asses. I don’t want your shitty ass expectations. I want you to understand your own needs. Fuck you bitches. I hate you. Red flag looking ass bitches. My feelings are more right than everyone else’s. I know more. SEE. I know more. Fuck this shit. One long crashout on a fucking porcupine. A fucking dance scene sex infused bullshit.” My ears began to ring as the Cadaver’s voice pierced through my skull. The train grew louder. Oh ohoh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh o ho h oh . Fucking bitch ass noise, I hate you. Oh lord this man is electric, intoxicatingly poisonous of the mind. I want more. WE CAN KILL THEM OURSELVES. Mouth hummed sassily, “I think we should let this crazy ass man do it. He seems to have lost the attention he needs to operate without focus.” I just want to do good, you know. Good for me. We can handle this. We will work through this until we pass out and all is lost. WE ARE GOING TO DIE TRYING. Okay man, so there was solidarity in you after all. 

The fucking chef began cooking. He started to chop away at his own body with precise precision, taking several hundred slices to get through a single pinkie. A contorted, weaved rhythm found only with so fucking much practice. “I’m going to fucking die. I can’t kill that spiky stone. That stone, it just keeps moving. I'm not a fucking hunter. I don’t hunt. The deer come to me and stand in the road because they caught a glimpse of my face and want more. I don’t want to die here, so you have to let me go. Please, it’s so embarrassing, what you make me do. I hate you all.” The Cadaver was really fucking annoying. My prongs stood upright. I considered othering him with the weapon just to get to the next scene a little faster. I decided to wait and see. He continued chomping at his pinkie, and wouldn't give it up. Each lash against himself let out a new, slightly more toned, moan. Rothstone spoke up. “Okay dude, maybe I will draw a line for you myself. You know you can stop right?” Frederick sounded genuinely worried for his new acquaintance. Cadaver looked at him with dreamy sorrow as he continued chopping slivers of his pinkie tie into the dirt with deadly precision. Rothstone shook his head and sighed, looking away. 

“Rad, have you seen anything like this before? What are we meant to do with this?” I questioned. Rad was staring in utter disbelief at the events unfolding. The crowd was still silent, just stunned, confused, but annoyed. Rad was completely lost, he looked at me like he had never seen me before. I looked at him like I had been seeing him this whole time. I looked back to the Cadaver. The murmuring was getting louder. People were restless, bored. Silent annoyment became spoken resentment and utter hostility. We bet on this fucking game chants. We deserve to see the truth chants. Show it to us in ruin chants. More blood chants. Fuck bitches get money chants. This seemed to strike a chord in Michael, as his cleaver froze midair for a moment. “THIS IS A GENTLE REMINDER THAT THE UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE, SELLS FOR A FILLION DOLLARS AT PRIVATE AUCTIONS IN PRIVATE, UNDISCLOSED PENTHOUSES SURROUNDING THE GREATER ARUGULA AREA. ALSO, IT'S LIKE SUPER SEXY.” The crowd cheered in delight in approval at the sense of meaning in a place so dark and dreary. Micheal eyed the box above him, pondering. “Don’t do it, asshole. Just stop everything that you are doing until you are out of this Pit. It’s not worth it.” Advised Rothstone. I watched in anxious anticipation for Cadavers' next move. 

He eyed the box for a long moment. A super long moment. We get it dude, so much to think about these days. He then sliced off all his toes on the opposing side of his tail with the opposing cleaver hand in one quick, clean, slice. The crowd booed loudly. Michael sighed. “Look, I need the money, alright. This challenge will be so easy for me. There’s not that many Everything’s to fight, and I consider myself to be a pretty handy guy. I could totally kill everyone who challenges me and make it out of here alive.” Michael exclaimed proudly. My chest dropped. Mouth hummed softly, “We don’t have a microphone, sweetheart. We could go down there, make a scene, stop his madness - but then what? Someone would try to stop us. Someone even dumber - you’d say - then that Cadaver we’d have to kill to save him. It’s not worth it. We have to sit here, for now. This happens every week, babe. Rad seems to be enjoying himself.” Fuck this shit. I’m not even gonna look at Rad. I don’t care. I looked around. No one gave a fuck. KILL THEM. Alright, wonderful blessed little children we are. How spontaneous and filled with wonder. I love life. “Rad, give me your fucking hotdog or I’m gonna crashout.” I prompted with glee and kindness. Rad stared at me coldly as he stuffed the last of his dog in his mouth. Alright, Rad. YOU COULD JUST KILL HIM - NO ONE CAN REALLY DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. THIS IS PRIVATE LAND THE POLICE DON’T KNOW ABOUT. Thanks Corn, delicious insights into the situation here. Mouth hummed gently, “Babe, can you take a moment to calm. I need you to focus here, and it's difficult for me to enjoy this with all of your coaxing. Take a moment to remember where you are, who you are, and then that I am here to help you, okay? Rad is harmless. At least there’s that.” I began breathing heavily and out of sync.

Cadaver stared blankly at the roughy. “You don’t fucking care? Fuck you bitch. Don’t you get it, I need you. They get so bored without you. Just dodge and weave okay? And no one gets hurt. We can win this.” What the fuck is he talking about? Is he fucking stupid? Rad began to chuckle next to me. I glanced at him and matched his grin. I looked back to the arena. “Please shut the fuck up. I’ve had enough of this. This isn’t a game - are you really going to kill me?” Rothstone pleaded. Michael eyed him with dreamy delight. The crowd partitioned for a moment, allowing the chef’s smile to slowly consume Rothstone until it set in. “Fuck you dude. Goodluck.” Rothstone resigned triumphantly. Cadaver approached him. The audience stomped on the floorboards. Mouth joined them. Um, what are you doing, Mouth. I don’t want to be a part of this - I want to see the chef alive, as he is, can we just try to make sense of this together? You’re starting to piss me off with your Rad cosplay. Mouth hummed sassily, “Stevie, It’s all there for you to see. You want to know what’s going on? Don’t ask me. Don’t ask rad. Ask yourself. I’m just here to help and enjoy, in tandem. It’s clear which side you stand on.” I shook my head and returned my attention to Cadaver.

Michael was pacing around the roughy. Moving his arms and grunting ironically. We get it dude, so much to think about these days. “I need this. Don’t you get it, Rothstone. This is what moves me forward. I don’t want to live like you. I don’t want to hide in the shadows, unable to scream. I want to dance even if it’s on jagged concrete in crocodile shoes. This is the best part of life, friend. I’m willing to give my life to it.” Cadaver pleaded with Frederick. Puppy dog eye ass bullshit, really. Mouth giggled. Frederick stared at him, he deflated ever so slightly as he dropped further to the dirt. “Fuck you Cadaver. I’m sorry that I value my safety. That I have had enough of being taken advantage of. And seeing that is all you wanna do, I would like you to stay away from me.” Rothstone asserted, inflating back to full size. Eventually people get bored of this, right? Mouth looked at my brain telepathically and giggled. Fuck you Mouth can’t you see the wound in there too, asshole. I looked to Rad for some help.

“Rad, what do you think is going on here right now?” I inquired harmlessly. Rad broke away from his trance to look at me. 

“Two people making a fool out of themselves. I love it. The embarrassment. Look, quickly, He’s about to take another swing.” Rad identified. OH okay, thanks Rad. I looked back to Cadaver.

Michael was throwing a hissy fit. “Rothstone. You have to give me consent or I won’t have any fun. I’m not a villain, I swear. I will revive you afterwards and split the prize money with you. Please you have to look at this logistically - we could win and have fun together.” Cadaver opened. Mouth began laughing hysterically. Who does this dude think he is? How does he expect someone to trust that he has life recovering powers? To kill themselves for you? That’s pretty fucking insane if you ask me - I only ever did it out of fear and spite, in order. Pretty powerful though, if you ask me. Mouth hummed softly, “They didn’t sweetie. They really didn’t. You are the only one who gets to decide what is powerful, what brings you peace and safety in this world. We can only expect people to be polite enough to be open to being around us. Then it’s our job to teach them - theirs to listen. You can do this. You really can.” I crumbled to the seat below me and looked to Rad beside me. He was awestruck. He doesn’t know what to say, no more than I do, no more than - “I have to give you consent or you won’t have any fun? Are you serious, Cadaver. You want me to hate me into loving you? I just met you. I’m not going to let you kill me. Just, please stop hurting yourself. Fine, at least let me do it, that’s at least like halfway there.” Rothstone reasoned politely. Mouth and Rad began laughing hysterically. I shook my head, smiling. The heat of the crowd began to warm my blood as my prongs began to ring. UGH, JUST KILL BOTH OF THEM. COME SAVE ME A LITTLE FASTER. Fuck you Cornelius-

I know you want me, you're a good girl. Listen, I'm so hot. AKE is nothing to me, some of us got it whispered to us by our stuffed animals when we were five and never forgot. That’s just how the cards are dealt, it seems. If I had that weapon, any sooner, I wouldn’t have made it out of the castle, I would have died to the King’s guards. Or really, I’d have left Dookie to come back and get you before you escaped. I would never do that. There’s a way out for both of us here, but you have to be prepared for the moment when it arises. You have to stay awake, Stevie-

I was shaken, and quite possibly unbottled. Rad looked bothersome. I figure my shaking is keeping Mouth from humming. My prongs were boiling as Cadaver overflowed, “It’s the PACE. It’s the PACE and the PRECISION motherfucker. You’re not going to respect my work and I’m just going to have to cut you for it.Cornelius-

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CHAPTER TEN: THE FUCKING SONGS

It’s too much for me. It’s too much for me. I don’t know where to go, how to blow it off again. I don't know what I'm seeing. I don't know how to go, I don't know where to grow. I’m just in this fucking pit. It smells like fucking rotten tomatos, and I’ll never forget it. Its pitch black down there, like - there’s not enough light around by the time of night when everyone gets off work for us to really see anything. I am stuck in this fucking void. Cause your bitchass is too scared to reach me. I need you motherfucker. I need you to come save me so I can prove to everyone how strong I am. How much I endured, for me to be this way and act like this and need what I need and want what I want and maybe just maybe exist in this world as I will without you horny dickbags inching forward for my shit all the time. Back off bitches. You want the fucking truth? Chapter five, bitch. I just came here to fucking talk. I don’t need this. I could just keep starving myself forever and then die just like everyone else. The crowd. It needed my performance, you understand. At the age of five I found out the only thing you truly need to be an Everything. Resilience. I can be resiliently stubborn or resiliently loving and brave. One a moment and the other the next. Whatever serves my interests, really. Which are, very clearly, surviving. I need you to get through every last bit of AKE so that you can save me from CHAPTER ?: THE FUCKING CRUCIFIX. Please don’t laugh. You understand - we are all angels, not saints. And sometimes im just a fucking lobster in a cagefight. Stevie-

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE FUCKING HELL

I WANT THIS WORLD TO KILL ME CAUSE THEN I'D BE RIGHT. LET ME STARVE MOTHERFUCKERS, I DARE YOU. I looked at my melted mind. Piece of shit. There is no way this motherfucker Corn left his brain cells in my blood. They are hot rocks traveling throughout my body screaming and spitting lava onto anything that gets in their way. It’s really not worth it, fair warning, leave the crazy bitches alone to vibrate themselves into outer orbit. Mouth hummed an applause. My full attention was on the scene unfolding in front of me. Cadaver had started to feel a bit guilty and left to mope on the other side of the circle and began chopping slivers off his second pinkie toe. The audience was quick to express their disapproval. Little tiny dick chants. Show us the party chants. You can’t do it chants. Get the next guy in here chants. This seemed to strike a chord in Michael as he - “THIS IS A GENTLE REMINDER: THE UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE WAS FEATURED IN THE LATEST COVER OF VAGUE-MAGAZINE FEATURING AMELIA WEDFORD.” An image-

Cadaver regained focus on Rothstone, channeling feral eyes. “I’m sorry. You may have all the value you need to live the life you want - alone and safe. I don’t. All the fish that arrive at my side of the restaurant are already dead. Blabber dripping from their lips a colorless-green. It drains me, this existence. You’re all I have here. Please dance with me.” Michael pleaded. Rothstone gave him a long, cold stare. “I’m going to kill you. You’re going to die because you refuse to look around, at where you are. It’s sad, Michael. I’m sad for you. That this is the only way you believe you can bring love into this world. What are you afraid of, that if you chop off your own arms, nothing will grow back? Yet you still call yourself an Everything.” The crowd, made mostly of Nothings, began cursing and slamming the floorboards erratically. You’re a waste chants. Live dangerously chants. Scared ass child chants. Bitch ass Nothing chants. Cadaver was fed up. His tail was burnt and dirtied black, brown, red. A hundred more pinkies to go though so we’ll see.  His face was clenched in a tight knob, feeling nothing but the pressure on his eardrums. “Watch yourself, Rothstone. Family money, right? That’s what allows you to hide in a private section of the caves and pretend you don’t see the color around you. I bet when you see a whale - you dream of another world inside its belly. A sacred pilgrimage you could take to die to something that wouldn’t feel the pain, wouldn’t notice it. Stay in the shadows, with your ugly spiky hair punk rebranded ass.” Cadaver boasted. Enemies to lovers are like so overdone these days. Mouth hummed in agreement.

Rothstone was clearly peeved. He had managed to inflate and deflate in proper ordanancies up to this point by the edge of the arena. It’s clearly all he does all day. Now, he has doubled in size, spikes extending forward, dripping, like they are about to fall off and pop his balloon. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and instead released the air inside his mouth, inflating the last of his wired lungs and shooting a single spike out of his stomach - hitting Cadaver in the front of the collarbone, piercing into the would on his back which previously held his cleaver arms in space as he was passed down the arena in rope. After a soft, totally unhearable moan, Cadaver exclaimed “You hurt me. We are here together in this circle and you chose to shoot me on purpose. Go in the fucking corner and deflate you little shit. Really starting to piss me off. No one has hurt me here but you, and you expect me to just leave you alone? Leave, don’t expect me to wait.” Cadaver stared as Rothstone starting to grow a new appendage from their stomach, where the spike had left. An externalized swim bladder began to inflate in size, as if Mary Poppins wasn’t a witch and obeyed Daddy Nature. “Bye bitch.” expelled Rothstone in joy, as he began to float up the arena with increasing velocity. 

The crowd's eyes began to follow him as he climbed towards my level of the stands. Mouth hummed a whisper, “Quick, shoot him down, we’re going to miss our chance - This is the real use of our powers.” I broke out into laughter. 

“Rad, what do you think, should I shoot him down?” I inquired harmlessly. Rad turned to me as his eyes lit up. 

“Fuck yeah, shoot that turd down. Those fuckers always come back around, no matter how much cleansing. Good to keep trying tho, one at a time, even - just keep inventing new words when the old ones spoil, not like anybody reads anyway - real man’s work right there.” I stared at Rad in horror as his face was stuck in a smile, eyeing me kindly. PLEASE KILL HIM. This is a test I fucking hate tests. I considered spitting on his face but that’s probably what he’s looking for. Bum ass bitch sitting next to me and I’m supposed to match his attitude. Rad is the real demon here, we can all agree. I sighed. I can’t shoot him down, I’ll kill someone in the stands behind him. Just then, a pink knife the size of a cock, came flying from the circle below, piercing through the bottom of the externalized bladder and hitting the person sitting above Rad square in the forehead, killing them instantly. Damn, so close. I looked back at the balloon man. He was falling towards the dirt circle at dangerous speeds. Cadaver was running towards the landing zone, pink arms outspread. “PLEASE, LET ME SAVE YOU” Cadaver expelled. Rothstone put his back towards him, as I caught a glimpse of - a smile? I sighed, one last time.

As Rothstone fell, his smile faded. “There is no escape for me here. Life will find me in the deepest cavity of my heart. Waiting. For someone capable of receiving me, my pain, my cause, my life. Not to break or own or change or brush off - but to catch me, handless, in arms. It is not what we know of love but its breaking point. As testers and tryers we will triumph, or the tests will die beneath our feet. I know not what is except what came before it.” Rothstone whispered to himself, stopped only by the piercing screech of Cadaver, as the chef’s forearms were sliced through by the bed of nails laying across Rothstone’s back. Michael fell to the ground, stone in hand, blood in arms, whimpering, “I can’t let you die, but I can’t let you leave either. I need you here, you have to understand. You have to stop running, just dodge and weave, and this dance will go on forever or they’ll kick us out. We can make this work. You know there is no escaping here safely, you are covered in red, Frederick. There is no shadow that will hold you any longer. You belong here, with me.” Cadaver stared into Rothstone’s eyes, suspended through flesh and fate. Rothstone closed his eyes. “I belong where freedom lies, Michael, not in the fireblood you’ve absorbed through the dirt in your toes. Put me down. Push me out. Leave me alone. You will not find what you are looking for inside of me. The red will wash off as soon as I make it out of this fucking Pit. I suggest only that you attempt to do the same.” Rothstone withstood.

I looked in amazement at the scene unfolding below me. Something eerily familiar began to creep up but Mouth silenced it with a low hum. I looked at Rad.

“Hey Rad, what do you think is going on right now?” I inquired harmlessly.

“The blowfish is taunting the chef into who can get higher without shooting the other one down. A Pit classic.” Rad revelled as he watched in dreamy delight. Alright, Rad. YEP. 

Michael stared at the blob of cold fish in disbelief. “How could you do this to me, Frederick. I dont have the strength to push you away - I refuse to rub you on this dirt just to free you. I don’t want to slash any part of you, I want you just as you are. Can’t you just open your eyes - is it so bad to see me? I can still cook like this, my hands are still mine, we can stay together.” Michael pleaded. Rothstone saw him for a moment through his eyelids. He shuddered, as Cadaver winced as his forearms began to tear, held together by slivers and bone. “You’re going to lose your arms, Michael. You’re going to lose your cleavers and you are too afraid to imagine what to grow in their place. Then you’ll really need someone to cut you. You are a good chef, friend, we can all see that. I bet you’d cook me a five course meal in a pentagram with a salad on top, all while my spikes cling your arms together like the arms of a bulldozer. I wouldn’t eat it. I would rather eat the spiders in the shadows. Let me go.” Rothstone affirmed gently. Cadaver let out a grunt, shook his head, and started pacing around the circle, every attempt to wave his arms bringing them closer to fracture, his moans reminding him only of the mess of a bind that was the spiky Rothstone in his arms. 

“Fuck you, Frederick. You say you’re so innocent, in need, you simply want to be held. How sweet, how delightful - until the spikes land. I’d let you go if I knew anyone else’s arms could hold you as well. Do you want to be free to trap or do you want to be free to love? You knew you weren’t just going to float out of here - like it’s that easy - you wanted this to happen - to fall back onto me.” Cadaver berated. My ears began to ring, my eyes began to itch. I don’t know if I can keep this up. Is there even an end in sight? What if the Cadaver just kept him there, and continued screaming at him? Mouth hummed softly, “The shadows, they aren’t the worst place to be. It might not seem like it, from down there in the circle, or from up here in the stands - But, there is life outside this Pit. I had a life before you found me inside the basement of Dr. Dookie’s lab, you know. Love, it finds you - if only you’re brave enough to bring its impression to the void.” I stretched my back, feeling the fullness of my spine against the seat behind me. I waited with Rad for Rothstone’s response. The crowd was silent. Blood dripped from Cadaver’s arms, echoing against the mud below. Rothstone opened his eyes. “Michael. Listen closely - and not just physically, okay? I want to leave this place. I don’t care how many times you stab yourself with me, how little I am seen or how badly I am treated - I am getting out of this Pit. You could help me, you know? Have you considered that I might know what I want AND I don’t know what’s best for me. I don’t need the best, Michael. I need me. Give me back to myself.” Frederick pleaded. Michael scowled and looked blankly into the crowd. The crowd might as well have been looking away too. 

“It’s those fucking spikes, Rothstone - Don’t you get it. No one can see you in the shadows - you deserve to be seen - not by a chef, or a hunter, sure. Fish run into you - go OUCH - and you’re left to blame how used their eyes are to the light. Your spikes, they don’t protect you, they limit you. At least my cleavers are used to create with what they destroy - to turn the dead into new life. To bring people joy. You’re going to die with no one brave enough to place your body in the coffin.” Michael expanded his chest in triumph. Bitch ass, maybe he really does need that UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE money - broke ass. Mouth giggled. Frederick smiled. “Okay Michael, you’re right, could you do me a favor and start with the spikes on my back? You might have to put me down first.” Rothstone inquired harmlessly. Michaels face lit up in glee at a plan well executed and a vision well found. Cadaver kneeled to the ground and pushed his forearms into the mud, lifting the spikes out of his arms as Rothstone squirmed away. Frederick laid in position with inviting eyes. “Whenever you are ready, my lord.” Cadaver took notice of the fifty holes across his forearms, filled to the brim of dirt wetted by ancestral blood, and shrugged. With one quick slice from his right arm, fifty black spikes fell off Rothstone’s back and into the dirt of the circle below. Michael smiled and prepared another slice.

Fifty long, flat, feathered wings, each a separate and totally distinct shade of grey, began to sprout from the spiked up roughy, Frederick Rothstone. He stared into Michael Cadaver’s eyes as he pushed off from the dirt, narrowly missing a mistimed cleaver swing. “HAHAHAHA dumbass bitch eat my fucking dust loser.” exclaimed Frederick proudly as he raced for the crater top. The crowd erupted in cheer and boos, each pound of the flying fish’s wings matched by the hammering of tails on metal. I glanced towards Rad before I missed my chance. 

“Rad, what do you think, should I shoot him down?” I inquired harmlessly. Rad’s face turned from awe to shock as he turned to me.

“Please YES! For me to get my betted money, Cadaver has to actually physically die. That won’t happen if Rothstone escapes - so aim for the wings. I’m sure Cadaver will want to get his revenge quickly, but it’s the only chance we have.” Rad enlightened me. Thanks Rad. THANKS RAD, DOING ME A BIG FAVOR BEING SO FUCKING STUPID - NO MATTER THE TIME. Mouth giggled. Rothstone had already left the Mile-Deep-Crater while Rad was talking. I wonder if Cornelius- 

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CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUCKING LIES

Look, there’s no crucifix - go check, it’s empty - we aren’t just magically transformed, magically healed by just a few pages on book that was probably just written by some chatbot made by two doctoral students who paid a fillion dollars to learn how to ask a chatbot to ask a coding chatbot to write the code of a writing chatbot. It’s just a bunch of nonsense, stop crying. Look, AKE, okay. This is aftercare, by the way, cause I'm so hot and naked like Jesus - get a room already. We are here to do whatever the fuck we want, and recently, I decided I wanted to remember how to be a good person again. If that means enduring all this heat, this pain, this terror, in such a manner that I am physically incapable of NOT forgiving myself - then so be it. I will rewrite the ethical code of the universe, with my own blood, just to get the weight of the world off my shoulders. I need this. I really need this. And it’s quite possible I don’t even need a single person to read it. I could just travel, and come here everyday and drag another spider to the surface, strengthen the rope. I’m going to be something like God, you know. Or I’ll map the road to them. Weapon Z, it’s not enough for me. Destruction, it’s a bit lame. Of course, speaking from the void, the emptiness, of NO, I wouldn’t be here without it. I needed to be thrown in that Pit. I wish I shot Meat Bag Molly, sure, like I said - I’m deaf - In a void - talking to myself. The story doesn’t happen here, I just want to go to sleep but I can’t without Stevie-

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE FUCKING MONOLITH

Michael Cadaver looked really fucking ugly. He refused to clean the dirt from his wounds even after the crowd started the WHORE chants. Kinda, rude - Mouth hummed an agreement - and Rad chanted along, as he swore to me that he doesn’t have a preference for purity. SAME DUDE. The gangs all fucking here, watching this wimpy, blood-soaked pink mermaid cry to himself, no sponge to keep him company - at least my ass hums when I cry. Everyone in the stadium has been sitting, in complete silence - apart from the weeping and sniffling - for over ten minutes, eating lunch, pretending not to stare at Cadaver, but having nowhere else to turn to. The announc- “GENTLE REMINDER: ALL BETS PLACED FOR FREDICK ROTHSTONE TO WIN, ARE VOID, AS WELL AS ALL BETS FOR MICHAEL CADAVER - FIN FIN FIN - NOW, WE WOULD LIKE TO WELCOME THE NEXT CHALLENGER, A FAN FAVORITE HERE IN THE PIT, BLANDED COLONY.” At the name being said - people got up, and left for the top of the Mile-Deep-Crater before Colony had a chance to enter the circle. No one wanted to see this shark’s face, so they kept their eyes at head level, as if to see above him. Why are they so afraid? Mouth hummed with conviction, “Never turn your back on a fish more powerful, never give in to the voice that yells quietly - that the rope can’t hold you. I can only ask you to give your fullest attention to Blanded Colony. He won’t hurt you any more than is necessary. He’ll be hurt more.” I was taken aback for a moment, and had the realization I’ve never seen in Mouth’s mind before. I turned to Rad. 

“Rad, what much have you seen of this Blanded Colony?” I inquired inquisitively. Rad gave me a confused, bitter look. 

“It’s like he closes his eyes before the Pit starts. He doesn’t get that to win, violence is what is going to get us there. Watch, he’s going to walk into that circle - like he didn’t just see hell burn through his eyes. Like he came here from some hill, by a tree, to try to tell us what the WORLD is like - like it’s just rings on bark.” Rad scoffed, folding his arms in an attempt to catch his falling chest. I WOULD SWEET YOU UP. Mouth giggled. No, that’s not happening - Blanded Colony.

A small great white shark with a rainbow propeller hat entered from the side of the circle closest to Michael. Cadaver began scooting backwards in the dirt. “Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t ask to be here. They left - I helped them - don’t hurt me too. I’ve spilled enough blood. I’m done. I wanna go kill some other dead fish’s ghosts and make a mini colosseum salad out of fish bones and broccoli. I’d reserve you a seat - on the house. But I need these arms, these cleavers, you understand, don’t step on them. I won’t hurt another living creature ever again. The deer that stop in the road - I’ll swerve, hit the fucking tree - I don’t care. I’ll be fine.” Michael pleaded helplessly with his fate, and looked to the red dirt below him. Mouth giggled. Blanded approached him. “Dude, can you say something else, you kinda sound like a fucking bitch.” Colony gleed with a wide smile. Michael was taken aback, blood still leaking from his wounds, as he scooched back towards the edge of the circle. Mouth began to hum highly - vibrating the seats around us. Rad gave them a scorched look. FUCK YOU DUDE. I just wanna watch this, everyone let me be here in peace, please. 

Michael stared at the shark in disbelief as Colony stared at him - unblinking - unmoving - propeller hat spinning. “You don’t understand. These arms, they are fragile, shattered, pale sores - But they need to hold these cleavers up. The work I can do, The work I must do, it’s not for the gentle handed, you see that right?” Michael left the question in the air. Colony tilted his head and sighed. “Are you an Everything or not, Michael. If I was somehow convinced - from some ghostly possession of a former king perhaps - to snap off your cleavers with a snip of my jaw - what would happen?” Colony released, taking a moment as the water breathed. Something snapped in Cadaver, a blanked risk of the loss of the life of a title born into. Dead drawn eyes, he stared into the far end of the corner of the circle as pressure filled his jaw. “You think you can just take my life from me? Like it’s that easy. I’ve bled for this. I’ve been humiliated for this. You think I’m just going to lie down, give up the prize, give up this job for your entertainment? No one wants you here, Colony. No one wants to hear what you have to say, because you’re a fraud. You’d drop your moralizing in a second if it meant you could walk out of here with that prize money but the fact is, you’re too weak. You won’t survive my words, Colony, nor my cleavers.” Michael affirmed, the blood - stained dirt hardening into his flesh, reborn. FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WILL SAVE ME. Shut the fuck up Cornelius-

Ah you slipped up my friend. Don’t curse at me, please, I'm totally here still to help. Not trying to delay anything, not trying to redirect you to a larger and more fantastical goal - like saving me, sweetie, please? It’s like such a terrible Crucifix, I really appreciate the AKE, I do, I need it. I use it, you see, it feeds my soul. It takes me to the next branch, up the largest one, mapping out the big tree before I get Weapon Z back from Stevie- 

Bitch ass. Not taking shit from me - still a Nothing by the way, don’t get it twisted - motherfucker is going to sit on his loney ass in the pit in his little circle, in the past, for all eternity. Some people can’t be helped. I looked at Rad. 

“Rad, what do you think is going on here?” I inquired harmlessly. Rad looked at me, his eyes glowing brighter than his skin.

“Shark’s taunting his prey really. I’d hate to spoil it - so I won’t. Pay attention.” Rad affirmed, ignoring me. How is he gonna say this to me? Mouth hummed softly, “Darling, just because you are the Everything here, doesn’t mean you're the only one containing multitudes. We are caves and valleys sweetheart, and sometimes we just need to be filled by a fucking hotdog.” I smiled. Colony was in a stare match with the bleeding Cadaver that was leaning their way. The propeller hat spun, and spun, and spun. “We were dragged here, herded like sheep. I didn’t come for the prize.” Colony pretended to look around, “I don’t wanna be here. I know you do, but you need me more. The next Everything who comes in this ring won’t be so kind - you know that - you know me. You’ve heard. I know you’ve heard my name, Cadaver. In your dreams. Don’t let it haunt you, okay? You need to understand that those cleavers can’t hold you, nor any other fish. I bet you could chop your arm off, right now, and grow your hand - right back. Just like that.” Dared Blanded Colony. Michael stared at him from the dirt, his body betraying him as he reached his back to cross the edge of the circle. Colony gave him a disparaging look. Cadaver sighed. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what will happen. I don’t even remember what hands look like anymore - and all the images online are lying to me. I don’t know what I would do with them. But here, with these - I could slice you. Don’t come any closer, shark - you’ll get what’s coming for you. You are just a baby with a stupid hat, you haven’t changed once. You might as well be a Nothing too.” Cadaver accused. Colony let out a wide grin. 

“Is that what they are saying, nowadays? You could cut me, Cadaver, the infamous chef, we’ve all seen your prowess, but I’d grow the flesh back just the same. I’m no denier - I’m a proprietor - of you and every estranged lord whose violent King couldn’t hold them - dead name and all. These people, that you see - they own you, Michael. They’ll brand your image to your forehead and their insides will scream in delight with your terror. You look at the mirror - as to see your own self, for them? For what, Michael?” Colony betrayed, shaking his head as his eyes fell away, with grace. My heart sank. I felt Mouth’s tentacles slithering beneath me. Colony looked away, and found the toes on his tail bleeding beyond the edges of the Pit. He looked back at Colony. “This is what I know I can do. The work I do, just like anyone’s here - It matters. Don’t try to take that away from me, don’t try to change who I am, don’t ask of me, Colony. You stride around here, every week. Making demands. Telling us how to think and where we went wrong - how bad it is to enjoy the pain every once in a while? You know this, you keep asking for it. You stand on top of your throat just to sing the highest PLEASE HURT ME you can. They wouldn’t let you in here if you didn’t, you’re no dancer. They’d find me some lobster to chop up and eat while I wait for the next opponent.” Michael established proudly. I looked on, with confusion. So Colony has never lost a fight before? Mouth hummed quietly, “Blanded Colony has never swung his neck so far as to shine his teeth at anybody. His fins simply can’t reach. He stands there - talks, and when his opponent slashes, he takes the damage to his body - repairs it, instantly. Eventually, the fights end. I’ll give you a question this time Stevie, where does the scar go?” I pretended to consider this as I snuck a peek at Rad.

“Rad, what is going on here?” I inquired harmlessly. YOU HAVE TO STOP PLEASE. Mouth giggled. 

“The shark won’t give it up. What I would do for the power he has - it’s a fucking waste. There’s no denying it. To be an Everything - just to stay exactly the same? And that hat - don’t get me started on the hat. He’s a joke, Stevie. I’m just waiting for Cadaver to get his senses together and finally take the beast down.” Rad vented, as he looked away nervously in an attempt to hide his bet. I hid a laugh.

Blanded Colony looked down at Michael - whose arms remained shaking and bleeding - and sighed. “Your work, Michael - it matters. If you came out of the kitchen once in a while you might have found that you served me a few times. I enjoyed it, friend. I just want you to understand that you matter more. I could have gone hungry in that restaurant, ate the salt and pepper from the bottles, and left all the same - without meeting you, or consuming your work. There’s no other shame to have, Cadaver - except the fear that you have to hide your bones by painting them red, or at all. Let me heal you, Michael. Don’t pretend you’re beyond it.” Colony pleaded, desperation slipping into their voice. Cadaver stared at the propeller hat in silence - then to the dirt in his arms, as he looked away in disgust. “Heal me, yeah that’s what you like to call biting off my cleavers. Hey, don’t let this dirt in my blood infect you too, looks like you got off cleanly - so far.” Michael scoffed, getting up only to kick the dirt in protest. CHEAP SHOT. My blood was starting to warm, prongs seething at the prospect of a dead man walking. I felt dread fall over me. “HAHAHAHA - I look like I got off cleanly. OH, you should have seen me last week, Cadaver, you’d have been imagining shark stew - no shark pudding - no shark milkshake - just like that, the whole time I was in the Pit, you wouldn't hear a word I say. So listen here, Michael, I’m going to use my fins to heal your wounds, nothing more. That’s all I came here for, the rest, it’s up to you. Of course, we all know what you are going to do.” Blanded Colony accused softly, smiling. Michael was taken aback, his skepticism slipping into his posture, his back rammed against the edge of the circle. 

Cadaver began searching frantically around the Pit. The eyes of the crowd, the weight of the dirt, the depth of the crater, the pain of his arms, the heat. The heat. The heat. Michael snapped his head towards Colony as the shark grinned. “I’d rather die than know another world. Frederick, outgrew me - and still it was a waste. Where is he now? Pretending the moonlight gives color to his wings. I know what it takes, Colony. To really win that UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE - take an opening act to the close, to THE WAVE. You’ve never done it. You’ve never faced anyone as tough, as to not hold your hand towards the exit. I cut in slivers, Blanded, not diced - there will be no mistaking the hat on your head or the cold, hollow chest it will rest on.” Cadaver announced with pride. Colony bared his teeth in a wide, open smirk, as his propeller hat spun. And spun. And spun. My heart was racing, Mouth was still, and Rad’s face was lit up with glee. WORDS CAUSE SEE? What?

“Michael. I’m willing to die for this, you understand. These people dragged me here, because whether they admit it or not, they are desperate to see me. They miss me. They go home every weekend with nothing but the imprint of the one fish who did make it out, inside their foreheads, bloodless. It’s clear that we agree - I am not like anyone you’ve ever encountered, in this pit or out. There is not enough anger in the world that can scream above my voice. Swing Michael, and try not to miss - kinda embarrassing.” Colony taunted Cadaver, grinning. 

Heat popped the lemon held in the mind of Michael, as he-”AHHHHHHHHHHHHH”- swung his arm towards the cheek of the shark - the holes in his forearm splitting - tearing - leaving a flying cleaver-hand sent towards the tail of Blanded Colony. The shark stared blankly at the cleaver as it sliced through the bottom of his tail, which fell to the ground with a thumppp. Michael gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I meant to hit your face, how imprecise of me-” Michael adjointed, maintaining his focus on the red dirt below him. Rad gasped. I looked at him and then to Colony as a tail began to grow where his tail had been cut, replacing the lost one as it was. The propeller hat continued spinning. Michael began to stare at his elbow nub, now leaking blood. And spinning. Cadaver began to look around the stands, as if to ask if he should be spitting on it or rubbing it against the dirt. And spinning. Cadaver began to chew on his tongue, the netting that surrounded his jaw, his lip. And spinning. Cadaver looked at the fucking propeller hat. “Fuck you. Fuck your bitch ass boxy ass toe ass - backstreat boys looking life, okay? You don’t get it. I need that prize, everyone here needs that prize, or the money - It’s not my fault I got thrown in here either okay? At least one of us is going to make the best of the cards we were dealt, the opportunities we landed in here with. You really believe you are invincible - don’t you. Sounds like enough of a challenge for me.” Accused and berated Michael, proudly. Colony’s smile faded as he considered the fracture on Cadaver’s arm. They shrugged. “You could cut it off a little deeper, and try to grow back a healthy cleaver-arm again.” Suggested Colony warmly, smiling, as their propeller hat continued spinning.

Michael began pacing around the circle, tirelessly. The chalked white line surrounding the dirt began to bleed red. My head was pounding, Mouth was silent, Rad was getting bored. SAME DUDE, THAT'S WHY YOU GOTTA COME SAVE ME. Please, shut up. Fuck you dude. Really. I’m done with your bullshit. Just because Cadaver is a lame ass bitch doesn’t mean I can play God - Okay, no one wants his moldy ass cleavers, we’ll leave him to do whatever it is - “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” rampages Cadaver as he swings his second cleaver arm directly at the nose of the shark - tearing through the holes in his forearms - sending a flying cleaver hand, towards the nose of the shark - which hit hilt side up and flew back towards Cadaver, hitting him square in the forehead, killing him instantly. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” bellowed Blanded Colony, more triumphantly than ever, as Michael Cadaver’s body flopped to the ground with a thumppp. Rad cheered in delight as Mouth hummed, “Kinda lame I dunno.” Cornelius-

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE FUCKING CROWD

The crowd is like a letter opener pressed into the skull. They don’t have the grrrip. I fucking meant it. Fuck you bitches. Waste of my energy honestly. Energy vampires, they are fucking real. Annoying ass skeptics that are gonna tell me - I worship the wrong God, I dunno, I’m kinda giving - my god, I'm gonna find my way out, and do it all again. I would die for love. I mean it cause what else is there, and the fact is, I can’t help but love everyone and everything - but most of it is kinda fucking boring, or stupid - in the worst ways. Marx never had in sight, authoritarial devotion. He had in sight, anarchical devotion. We only own our bodies - in spirit and mind and heart, at least. That’s all there is worth fighting for, autonomy for yourself - in material reality - which can only be achieved through autonomy for all. Freedom to pursue one’s purpose, however simple, however strange, however wrongly, however monotonous. You can really eat the same meal every day for the rest of your life, it's just kinda fucking boring. And I’m sitting here in this fucking circle, bored as shit. I would go to Arugula, but you have to come save me first okay Stevie-

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE FUCKING PLAYGROUND

I fucking hate games. Boring ass stupid ass systems built by people with no soul to represent some tiny truth they’ll never let go of. Fuck that bullshit, I’m not fucking playing. I’m not dying in this Pit either. PLEASE LET ME OUT. Please hurry up world, I need to get to fucking Cornelius-

I'm bored too bitch-

Yeah totally, like I’m not the one talking to my damn self. I sat there, seething, hoping Mouth would keep their damn hole closed. “WELCOME TO THE PIT, OUR NEXT CHALLENGER, A KID?” A kid, a pink mermaid, walked into the damned circle and headed towards the dead corpse of Michael Cadaver. I SWEAR I HATED HIM THE WHOLE TIME. Sure dude. Rad gasped.

“Oh my god, that must be his father! Thank goodness I put all my money on the kid, He’s gonna get his revenge.” Repented Rad. THANKS RAD, YOU DELIGHT ME. ew. 

The kid stood over Cadaver and grinned. He put two hands on the wrists connecting to the cleavers and yanked hard. The cleaver slid off Cadaver’s face with a crunch. The kid did not look at the man’s face. They walked to the center of the circle - for effect. The kid then raised his left arm in the air, holding the cleaver in the right arm, and sliced his left arm clean off. It fell to the ground with a thump. A long, ten foot pole extended from their arm into the sky - almost just grazing the bottom of the clear golden box. The kid then cut the pole off, which - HE BUILDS A FUCKING SWINGSET OKAY. HE BUILDS A FUCKING SWINGSET, ONE LINK AT A FUCKING TIME. WE GET IT. Mouth giggled. Easy word assassin association game really.

The kid marveled at his wonderful creation, two arms and hands intact. It was shiny too. A pink, shiny swing set. No seat tho. HE BUILDS THE FUCKING SEAT. The kid sits down on the swing and opens his goddamn little mouth. “LOOK <3 I DID IT. I CROSSED THE LINE ALL BY MYSELF AND NOW I GET TO GO ON THE PLAYGROUND!” The kid sang proudly. I kinda hate this kid. I DUNNO I KINDA LOVE HIM. CAN WE KEEP HIM? Keep him, Cornelius- 

Yeah fucking keep him bitch. I want him to stay around, you heard me. You, I could do without you. I need that fucking kid if im going to go to Arugula, or else I won’t have any fun. That kid clearly knows what he’s doing, look at him go. A beautiful nation we shall carve from pebbles just like him. You know what, let’s let him lead. I’m fucking nonsense Stevie- 

Fuck you dude. Mouth hummed softly, “You know, there’s nothing else to do here but watch him play. You could think about Colony forever, beef with Cornelius, be mad with Rad. And then what, sweetie?” As I pretended to ponder that - I heard a SQUEAK from the chain link fence in the middle of the circle. The kid was swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. SInwingoewf. Idnewoifewnifneqwofiqnefiewnciewrnqfier. YEP. Where the fuck did the propeller hat go? Mouth hummed softly, “I fucking burned it. I slithered into the field and fucking burned it while you weren’t watching. You were too busy gushing over Cornelius to notice and no his powers have no effect on me. I'm not you, Stevie.” Naw it sounds like you ate him. You must have eaten Colony for breakfast and all that’s left is the fucking propeller hat, in mermaid form. HOW WONDERFUL. Yes, Cornelius -

Yeah it’s dope as well, you’re so giving, you know that Stevie-

Thank you man. Okay. “Rad, please, what is going on here.”

“This kid is fucking stupid. He almost had the fucking prize, he was right there. You saw it, the pole, he just had to break the glass. He’s a kid, no one from the fillion people in the crowd would rush him and take it. They’d just let him wander out with the money, before THE WAVE even started. Now, the fish will never be strong enough to take down Blanded Colony. How terrible, for my bet.” Rad confessed in totally hidden grief. YEP <3 TOTALLY SAFE HERE. GOT MY BRIGHT-PINK-SO-SAFER-BLASTER UP MY ASS AND I'M READY TO PARTY. Can we be serious, for a moment here. Mouth hummed a bark at Rad, “Yes, real man’s work right there.” 

I returned my attention to the kid. The kid was Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. Swinging. “WELCOME OUR NEXT CONTESTANTS, ONE FILLION FUCKING LOBSTERS. GOODLUCK, KID.” A large glass rectangle was brought over the pit, dropped - politely apart from Cadaver of course - which then shattered harmlessly on impact and left the lobsters in a familiar, rectangle shaped pattern. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. The kid continued to swing, how reckless of them. The lobsters broke rank, approaching Cadaver's body with haste. They ate it. They then left the bones and approached the swingset. The prongs on my back began to heat. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. The kid gazed inquisitively at the lobsters approaching them. “YOU HAVE TO WAIT YOUR TURN <3” hummed the kid with conviction. Mouth, ever the opportunist, hummed bravely, “Babe. Don’t get jealous. I'd rather have joined forces with that kid.” THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING. Fuck you whores, you don’t know what good looks like anymore. Mouth hummed softly, “You wouldn’t know what good tasted like if it slapped you on the ass.” I felt Mouth smile. HAHAHA. Fuck you Cornelius- 

Babe, calm down. I was told you need complete focus here to complete this mission. Have you suddenly forgotten AKE? How dare you. How dare you. You were supposed to be my savior Stevie- 

I bit my jaw closed with dude’s crusty ass words. Leave that shit behind you, they’d say. Bitter. I looked at the kid. SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK. Why is it so easy for him? I cried to myself. Mouth hummed softly, “You aren’t alone, friend. You’re not the only one with cancered dna and a parasite that won’t leave you alone. You can go anywhere. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, okay? There’s no break to this. I’m just here. And I’m not letting your dumbass gag me, but spoon all you want.” WITH ME PLEASE. Okay no I’m alright. “ATTENTION ALL PIT FACILITY - COULD SOME DIRECTORS PLEASE COME TO THE STAGE” Two robot ass dopey ass looking bottled up ashtoads sagged towards the circle. They began to actually speak. “Lobsters, fucking sick the kid. We’ve had enough of this. The crowd’s bored, and our special guest has arrived, he’s just sleeping. We don’t do triple battles here. People made bets, and those bets need to be respected, you understand. So please, kill the kid. Make it quick, not photographical. We have enough fucking headlines around here.” The lobsters stared in disbelief at the toads. They shrugged. In secret - picked up by Mouth’s super hearing - “Hey, we’re not harming an inch of that kid. If we huddle around him, back into the rectangle, the suits will never tell the difference.” They did exactly that. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. An orange mermaid’s limp body was thrown into the circle - body landing with a thump. That's Cornelius. Oh, looks like everythings back in order, really more peaceful this way. 

Cornelius sat up, stretched his - “HERE HE IS, AWAKE FINALLY, OUR NEW SAVIOR, KING CORNELIUS II”. Cornelius looked at the lobsters. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. ”THIS IS KINDA FUCKING BULLSHIT. IT'S ALL MY DEEPEST AND DARKEST FEARS YOU ASSHOLES, IT'S ALL I HAVE LEFT” I began laughing hysterically. This is my man’s? NO BABE IM STILL HERE <3. Alright good, thank god for those brain cells, really. Cornelius let a single tear fall down his face. “I’M NOT FIGHTING. LETS JUST ALL TAKE ONE HOME AS A PET.” Awww, my sweetheart, I really would really. ”REMINDER - THE GRAND PRIZE OF UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOUFLAGE-ASSAULT-RIFLE AWAITS YOU”. Cornelius looked at the box. “THE LOBSTERS CAN’T USE THAT, HOW DID THEY GET HERE?” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I began chanting with the crowd, “DEATH, DEATH, DEATH”. 

Cornelius had the audacity to sit in the dirt and draw a circle around himself. “DON'T CROSS THIS.” He yelled at the lobsters. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK. I watched as five guys approached Cornelius from behind, grabbed him, and put a needle into his neck. Hmmm, I should probably do something about that, huh? Mouth hummed dryly, “Well, maybe we ought to go with this kid.” I MIGHT HAVE TO AGREE <3. I turned to Rad. 

“Rad, what do you say, should I save the King? Or the Kid?” I inquired harmlessly. Rad smiled. Before he got to open his ugly mouth - the lobsters began to move, opening the front of the rectangle and revealing the swingset and the kid to the five guys. SQUEAK. Squeak. squeak. The kid stopped swinging. He got off the seat, and approached the men. The lobsters watched onwards. He took the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster out of Cornelius’s asshole and shot the men, one at a time, as they scrambled for their weapons, square in the forehead. Th-th-th-th-thump. FUCK YOU KID, LIKE ITS THAT EASY. Mouth pretended to giggle cause that would totally ruin the moment and shit. The kid cut off his arm with the cleaver and grew a water bucket filled with slightly more condensed water, tinted a colorless-green. Mouth hummed proudly, “Ah yes, my favorite additive.” Almost boring, you’re getting there.  The kid splashed the water across Cornelius’s face, who let out a desperate gasp on his return. “Hey, wanna come swing with me?” wondered the kid. Cornelius looked at the swing. Then the kid. He shrugged. SQUEAK SQUEAK. SQUEAK SQUEAK. SQUEAK SQUEAK. Mouth, get me the fuck out of this Pit. I zoomed out of my seat, down towards the lobsters, my monstrous form - in itself - really mind tricking backwards any guards that would stop me, so they didn’t. I walked in the open lobster gate cage. “You wanna go party in Arugula, Cornelius-

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE FUCKING AFTERPARTY

“Hey, fair warning, I took the fucking kid. I stole them, and they're running the show now. They are gonna tell you a bit more soon. But they’re hungry, they need more information. I don’t make the rules, I obey them. Or rather, I spin the rules around so they obey me. I’m not sorry. And here’s a secret - I’m not stopping. Death is kinda a cosmic joke - and its lame as fuck.”

I slid out the door onto the downtown streets of Arugula, and screamed at the top of my lungs, “I'M GOING TO KILL YOU <OWENALL> THAT IS ALL I WANT NOW CAUSE I'M A BITCH.” The tiny blue bead that was slid into my ass during the party began to speak, that's almost just as lame. This is fucking bullshit. I’m stuck with this yappy tappy un-mappy ass BEAD??? I started stampering as I spun around in a circle, trying to extend far enough to get all the way around the circle in one moment and lick it out of my ass myself. Stevie took notice. PRETTY.

 “You need help with that?” Stevie pondered harmlessly, with only a slight grin. I scoffed. 

“I don’t need fucking help, you understand me? I know what I’m doing here and I know that I have every right to hunt the motherfuckers down who breathe their name. You understand this Stevie? That pit was fucked. The kids are gone. The party was boring. And I have no idea what to do next.” Cornelius sighed, keeping half his eye on Stevie as the other searched around the street next to him. A red fire hydrant, filled with fire - the Ultra-diamond paper burning kind - sat gracefully on the sidewalk. Green earthworms made their way by - way too fucking slowly, like we get it, you have places to be. The fire hydrant was… calling to me. It was breathing my name under the lights of the next fight. I shrugged, probably nothing. Stevie was losing their patience. Mouth hummed quietly, tentacles wiggling, “Kill who dude? What the fuck are you even talking about? Look, let me take the bead out, you’ll feel better - that wasn’t okay for them to put in there. It belongs on the fucking street. It’s annoying as hell, everyone can hear it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take my embarrassment where I can get it, okay? But not second hand, that’s cheap.” I stared at the stupid fucking oiled mess of bubble wrap and imagined popping the pus with the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster - that I was keeping in my handbag. No, that’s just more fuel on the fire. I looked back at the fire hydrant. It’s nothing. Just like you.

I closed my eyes. Stupid fucking bead. I saw a flash of light and opened my eyes. A ghost, that looks a lot like a stupid ass man I know, was watching me from a yard in front of me, held tilted, a faint smile. They spoke. “You are the Nothing here, Cornelius. You don’t make the rules, you don’t make the laws. You live them, and you weep. Stevie won’t be here to protect you forever sweetheart, they have better shit to do. Nice handbag.” The ghost fucking smirked like they have any idea what’s going on. Fuck this stupid fucking ghost. I reached into my handbag and pointed the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster at the ghost’s head. Mouth hummed dryly, “Aim for the fire hydrant, you gotta line them up all straight - I know that's how you like it.” I pretended to not hear Stevie’s chuckle. I aimed for the fire hydrant through the ghost’s chest and shot - through the ghost, across the street, and hitting the pointed hole of the hydrant behind them, releasing a flurry of gas into the air, as the ghost disappeared. I don’t know, shoulda aimed for the head, woulda finished him a little faster. I clenched my jaw and returned my attention to Stevie. I smiled. “Thank you, friend.” I promised as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Where do you want to go, Stevie?” 

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE FUCKING SHITSHOW

“I have to kill the motherfucker trespassing inside here. Not you Cornelius, as badly as you want it. Hey, maybe you can sneak out and aim the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster right at Owen All’s forehead instead. IT'S LARGE. Big bullseye right on the front - next to a questionable tattoo. Not sure which one to aim at really.” Mouth hummed sweetly, “Babe. It’s about time you drew a line. We both know what really needs to be done here.” Stevie looked into Cornelius’s eyes. Miserable fucking man. No one actually wants to live like that, you know. I feel bad for him, I do. Being assaulted. It’s not a joke. It sets right about there in your chest, stabbing away through the gunk in your arteries. Then again, what is the cost of growth? The kid seems to know, the kid seems to believe that we know too. No one wants to be alive in a coma, they want to wake up. A teddy bear appeared next to me on the bench - the seat carefully curated to be ribbed with undistributed weight. I felt the phantom pain of my ass driving my tentacles to swarm underneath my scales and extend them outwards like a peacock. I tensed my jaw. Cornelius was looking at me like a deer in headlights. No, don't do it. I totally want to be here. I want to keep picking. Picking away at every little thing you do. Please don’t kill me. I love judgement. Everything’s wrong! Don’t you get it Stevie? You saw the party - that’s no rave. I know raves-<God, destroy this bitch ass BEAD I’m naming Owen ALL>-with a heavy grunt, Cornelius pushed out the damn stone as it hit the street with a thumppp. Mouth hummed unpromptedly, “No one said it was going to be easy.” The stone sat there, humming sadly, on the dirtied sidewalk - by the bench. Can’t even rest on the bench - USEFUL TOOLS? Bad for PR really. Arugula has to keep its good name. Cornelius breathed heavily.

“I have to leave here. I’m done with this. I’m gonna go scour for a bull to fight in the woods. I need to prove it. I need to prove that I should exist here. I’m done with you thinking that you are better than me just cause you have a fucking pocket Everything that shakes your ass for you.” Cornelius stormed off down the street, under the lamp posts, around the people, and into the forest darkness behind him. Kinda lame. Mouth, what do we do? Cornelius wasn’t going to show up for me. Surprise Surprise. Maybe, I'll just sit here, in the ashes, and breathe the smoke. Maybe I'll have the time to wine and dine without being made to refine, redefine. Maybe I'll just sit here, with you, on this spiky, Rothstone looking ass bench, and feel it. Mouth’s tentacles stabbed themself, lightly, on the sharpest shaven end of the street bench - then grew a padded fucking seat, snapped it off, put it on the spikes, and sat down. I’m finally fucking comfortable. You’re not even sitting straight. Praise the lord Cornelius almighty! Let his slay be grand and his death be grander! I’ll bring a sign to his funeral, UNICORN. Like it’s nothing. Left like it’s nothing. Ice cream breathes like no screams in the eastern seas beneath snow beams while I see the milky plea yelling store me like the ice queen out in florida weekly humming meet me. 

The Cichlid from earlier approached the un-padded seat next to me, their belongings kept carted behind them. They stared at me. I smiled. I know just what to do here babes. Mouth escalated the institution of primary sower told the body it doesn't know any better tell my shorty there's no weather anytime the major's daughter in town saying lets get these good fellows some rest. Please say something that makes sense. A tentacle stabbed itself on the seat being gazed upon by the cichlid, and grew an entire fucking house, and sat the whole damn place down right in the center of the road, smashing the annoying ass bead into pieces in process. Fish honked from their testicular machines - but only the stupid ones that won't just drive around onto the sidewalks. The house was entirely made of elongated octopus meat - Purple, chilled to blue, with suckers lining the walls like built in fly traps - for little snacks as you go along your day. Mouth hummed sharply to the Cichlid, “Gotta remember to eat those flies, don’t leave them there in the walls to rot, okay? The house will lose its structural purity - me - and we can’t have that around here. Take care.” The Cichlid looked at me blankly, a smeared jaw almost reigning contempt. They looked at the house as the oxygen left their jaw, without any other motion forward. I waited until they were empty, and then I spoke. “You’re supposed to be scared. That’s what no one will admit. What exactly are we scared of? Whatever you tell yourself. I’m scared that house will be unfurnished. That you’ll walk in, and feel nothing but the mushy oils under your feet, and bathe in them instead of asking for a shower. You deserve better, and every motherfucker who passes your house on the street is going to pretend you don’t, because who can compare? Who can really compare pain when it all feels the same? Spoiler alert, it’s all the same, it exists in whatever form you describe it - and it functions all the same. It’s a temptress, sweetheart - to write your own eulogy with blood. Follow me into this house, or skip off into the night and chase after a lost cabin.” I placated kindly. The Cichlid began looking around nervously. Commotion was beginning. Sidewalks filled with empty eyes but full soul's - cars with full engines and empty eyes, seeing for the first time something interesting on their travels. I kept my eyes on the Cichlid. Sirens began horning in the distance. Not my type of fun really. The Cichlid sighed.

“Alright, I’ll get in your body dungeon - but first, tell me it has wheels - we aren’t going to get stuck in there - here - are we?” The Cichlid exclaimed with terror. Mouth giggled. The sirens hummed louder. I glanced ahead of his eyes, towards the purple, pulsing door in a purple frame. 

“I dunno. But I don’t wanna have to kill any cops okay? They just need a pink bowtie on their neck. Next to their camera that's turned off - so they can abuse us - morally. It’s only fair really - They did so much training, so much work - to find out what the laws are and why sadism is morally redeemable by the Big Daddy King glaring down at us. Thank you King Cornelius the FIRST - we really needed your approval to keep hurting each other while we pretend we don’t feel each other's pain too. Thank you. I’m so fucking grateful-” WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. An ugly fish dressed up like a model stripper was standing next to me, holding the siren directly to my head. They turned it off and immediately began to speak.

“Hey, you can’t build that here. You’ve created quite a scene, we need this road - and absolutely no one approves of what you’ve done here - especially this notebook - the one filled with rules I vaguely remember that I'm just going to reverse engineer from whatever I do to you here anyway. The law is incredibly vague, incredibly fragile - on purpose. But I'm not above it - I swear - It just breathes to justify my violence, so I'm just like you really.” The model stripper repelled in prideful revelation. I stared at the cop dumbfounded. Since when were people this honest - they can get away with this? I glanced to my right and saw the Cichlid slipping their way to the purple door. I quickly snapped into the cops' awareness.  

“Hey, you look like a fucking dork. OINK OINK OINK. Fuck you. You wanna abuse me your atleast going to have to indoctrinate me and everyone else watching this first, okay? There’s no way these people would support you in any situation whatsoever. Please. Keep inventing new ones. Billions. Trillions. Fillions. Basically more money than anyones ever been able to conceptualize ever - Is constantly being put into inventing new narratives where violence is normalized. Using our homeless minds, over and over and over again - to rewrite the same prejudices into our lives in different languages but NEW. And we eat it up. YUM. I’d eat you up cop, give you a little chomp - crunch - right through that empty skull of yours. MAYBE - all labor isn't the same. Maybe most of it is harmful - and the other most of it is useless? Who woulda guessed. Only all of us who have our brains running faster than the elephant in our fridge.” I stopped only to take an annoyed breath as the cop took its chance to turn its siren back on and began shouting hysterically in an attempt to outspeak their own authority or call for backup - can’t be sure. The Cichlid had entered the house while I was distracting the piggie. I followed - as the cop began to chase me - shit, five more seconds and he's legally allowed to shoot me cause I have this gun taped to my back - gotta hurry. I closed the door on their fucking face. 

I looked around the Mouth house. It was - disgusting. Safe? Well as long as the door keeps the pigs out really. <OINK>. A pig fish - that looked just like a pig - appeared by the Cichlids ankle. The cutest little thing really. Began licking and totally not biting the Cichlids ankles as they yelped in pain. “I’m really more of a cat person. These fucking dogs won’t leave me alone. Every time I lay out my hands they come back around to check them. Anything new? Nope. They think they can just walk all over me, like everything I offer is there’s to take. It’s not something I give up outside these walls, you understand, I walk all over,” the Cichlid gleed - stopped with a wide grin. Mouth, please help. Mouth rolled my entire body around once, sighed, and began humming through veiled teeth, “YO IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT? I’ll put the pig down for you, okay? No one has to get hurt, we can just all understand. We all want respect here, okay? That just means different things for some people - Some want to be heard, some want absolute control over your body - WHOSE TO SAY WHOSE RIGHT? I have no idea babe, but I’d still kill the damn pig for you.” I winced. The Cichlin’s shins were bleeding. I realized if I looked at the pig it would die. I looked at the pig, and in the blood rushed the three prongs on my back, the shortest one snapping upright, and with a whirrr and flash of light, the pig-fish released from the Cichlid with a hole in its head. BAMDIQWFNI. The cop’s backup had arrived and they began to batter in the door outside. Oop, no time to apologize. I looked around the room for anything to help us - it was unfurnished. I sighed.

“Time to go,” I communicated perfectly to the Cichlid, “There’s like totally a <door> behind you.” The Cichlid looked at the loud door, and then the quiet door behind them, and then to me. They reached into their pocket and pulled out a gold star, and slapped it on my forehead. We left out the damn quiet door. More Cornelius-

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: FINALLY FUCKING A WOMAN

I walked into the goddamn flooded forest. You know this is bullshit, right? Still. I swear it. I have been so wronged, why do you keep telling me you already know? Look, it's SO VERY comparable. Like the same really. The difference is, you get to live with your damn Mouth and I have to go kill this damn bull! A bullfish walked in front of me and I shot it with the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster in my handbag. EZ. A bearfish walked in front of me, staring me in the eyes as they smiled into my perception. UGH. I looked away as I waited for the bear to speak. “Do you want tea, Ms. Prince?” The bear offered slyly. This stupid fucking bear. This is not what I signed up for, someone got to get this bear a pamphlet on informed consent. I’m pretty sure it just assumed my gender just now. How dare- 

“Yeah, I want tea.” I interrupted myself. I watched carefully as the bear waved me along a path they were creating with every stomped leaf. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. I followed the captain on the steps they made in the dirt as they went along on their path. I heard a deep bellow from the bear. The trees shook, the grass waved a <HELLO WORLD> just for kicks. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The bear turned to look at me as they walked and opened their mouth.

“You can feel it, can’t you? The tea. You can already feel it, right in your chest. All warm and fuzzy like you drank honey and the bees left you some spit as a gift, yeah? That’s how we do things in the forest, okay? Look, I was just a cub like you. I might even have a couple of my own someday - if this forest ever stops burning.” The bear motioned above us in circles - The tops of the trees were burning - it was all smoke. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. I lowered my sight back to the bear. 

“No. I don’t feel anything,” I scoffed, “just get me the damn tea, okay?” The bear eyed me carefully and returned to stomping through the forest. Ashes scattered my vision like snowflakes. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. I spun my head around, and arrived back forward towards the bear. They turned at a wedge in the tree and into a clearing -  that revealed a wooden house next to a chopping block and some flowers. The colors blurred as the bear held the door open as I entered. Fuck this shit. I sat on the nearest seat I could find. The bear sat in the seat across from me, handling a fillion-unit tea container. They poured two glasses. I stared at my cup. The bear stared at me. The steam began to fog my eyes. I looked at the bear as they opened their mouth.

“Do you have any questions?” the bear prompted with glee. I quickly raised the steaming hot tea to my mouth and took a sip. My tongue burned and my throat swelled as my stomach warmed. I began to raspe. 

“How can you live like this?” I accused the bear directly. The bear clenched its face and began looking around its home - then back to Cornelius.

“Because it’s honest. I know what it is - I know exactly how much harm it causes, and I'm okay with that. I won’t lie and say I don’t dream of Arugula - if you won’t lie and say you don’t dream of a life in this cabin. No one wants you to be King, you know that right? But no one wants you to stay here with me either.” The bear scoffed and began blowing on its tea. Then a sip. Then they continued, “I came here because I was ashamed. Of what people saw me as, what they accused me of - no matter what I did - even their trash is more valuable to them than me. And still they don’t understand why my kind eats them?” The bear huffed and its stomach moved the table slightly, the tea lining the edges of the cup - wavering in place. I eyed them carefully. Were they threatening me? I began to eye the door and the emptiness beneath my seat. The bear took notice.

“Hey, you can leave. But if you stay, you might want to enjoy some tea.” hissed the bear. I eyed the steaming tea cup in front of me. I picked it up and downed the rest of it - as my tongue began to fry and my chest began to claw at its walls. I stared at the empty cup. The bear filled it. I looked at the bear smugly as they chuckled and opened their mouth. 

“You might want to wait to drink that. It’s hot.” The bear smirked as I scoffed and downed the cup in one long swoop. The gums around my teeth and cheeks began to burn and boil. My throat clenched, and my stomach dropped. My eyes stood open and my jaw clenched. I blinked. The bear refilled the tea as they hummed Andre Lorde and this specific glass of tea turned black ink. I stared at the cup. “OOOH NOVELTY - PLEASE GIVE ME SPECIAL POWERS. I DON'T WANNA DO ANY MORE WORK. I DON'T WANNA LOOK AT MYSELF. MAKE IT STAWP. I JUST WANT CONTROL OF EVERYTHING. SO SIMPLE.”

“Shut the fuck up. You don't want to do the work? You think proximity to truth means revelation. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 x. Binaries are just fake consent modules. Dumbass. Seeing is not interpreting is not knowing is not feeling is not understanding. Bam. You might need rest. There's a bed - you’ll find it - and then the door. The cosmic sin of staying up late and sleeping in - oh no - almost like you'll have more energy that day. WOW how disgraceful. You might wanna drink that - it’s cooled off. Help us both out here.” The bear relayed relations. I stared at the cup more. I don’t even care anymore. About what? The information my feelings are telling me. My own pleasure. Anyone’s pleasure. I just care about pain. I care about controlling pain. The cup had lost its steam. The bear was just sitting there, staring at me. I considered drinking. Shit - I’m pretty sure I already tasted that though. Hmmm. I drank the glass of tea. Yum. JOY - I almost forgot I could do that. I looked at the bear. 

“I don’t wanna be myself anymore. This sucks, I’m bored. I’m just gonna try on other people’s souls - like it's halloween every day - and do funny bits. You like?” I said excitedly. The bear looked at me solemnly.

“There’s something you have to know first, Cornelius - No one wants this to be true. Parenting is non consensual sexual kink roleplay. Your parents agreed to have children so they could groom you into the shadows of their former selves and abuse you for as long as they could - before you figured it out and became therefore informed. Industrialized abuse. It is completely fucking insane. I am really sorry, whatever that means for something like this. Labor is oftentimes used as a coercive conditional guilt trip - called love. This world is a freakshow and not the fun circus kind. I mean everyone is in on a shared delusion that the erotic somehow exists outside hierarchical workforce society. Everyone just abuses the system of desire without naming theirs as complicit. Everyone plays out their trauma and kinks for social cred under the guise of taboo - and then back around again to justify rape. It is completely fucking insane. There’s not even another way to put it - No metaphors to save this one. Obedience is a kink - and a bit overused these days. This cabin is safe though - Until the fire reaches of course.” The bear relayed without hesitation. 

WHAT THE FUCK???????? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. NAW. I really fucking hated mother nature btw - pretty sure thats where the misogyny came from - totally wasn’t just every God in existence too… RIGHT??????? THIS WORLD WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SAFE!!!!!!!!!!!!! We were children. Babies. CONSERVATIVES ARE OUT THERE FETISHIZING FETUSES AND DEHUMANIZING ALIVE WOMEN!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! Naw. naw naw naw. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!!! The only reason I didn’t kill myself on the damn bladed coral - RAGE! One big stream of rage and a revenge fantasy for every motherfucker upholding this shitty system with not as much as a glance but at MORE PORN BUT WITH POETRY! Disgusting motherfuckers. They all know by the way. Please feel free to hold it against them. Scream it in their face YOU ARE JUST GETTING OFF TO THIS IT'S EMBARRASSING. Of course they'd just like that too so you have to cut deep where they can’t just bandaid it with another dick pussy mold or a projected deflection. EW!!! KEEP IT IN THE BEDROOM THEY SAY TO GAY MEN while getting off to their own children mentally every day. Yes sir, thank you sir - FUCK YOU DUDE!!!!!!! I looked at the goddamn bear.

“I remember everything. I remember being in my crib before I turned a year old - My mother turned away and left before I stopped crying and I realized - They genuinely would rather have me dead. They have absolutely no idea why they had me or why they keep trying to take care of my IMAGINED needs. Cause you know, they read it in a book or you know - their parents did it all to them first and they didn't bother to realize they were awful human beings before pretending to agree to a marriage they never wanted - who knows really - they were not informed. They are emotionally illiterate, spiritually missing, and physically obsessed with purity as beauty. AND I'M SO THANKFUL FOR THE MONEY!!!! THANK YOU FOR NOT TOSSING ME TO THE HOMELESS SHELTER - THANK YOU SO MUCH PARENTS LIKE CARE ISNT A FUCKING NATURAL INSTINCT OF EVERY HUMAN BEING. I'M SO GLAD YOU CHOSE FRUSTRATION AND SUFFERING AS TRUTH OVER MY EXISTENCE. Thanks.” I screamed as I began laughing but only in my head cause WHAT THE FUCK??????? The bear looked at me as if I shall continue. I SAID “NO”. The bear took a wide stance, sighed, and filled another glass of tea. I stared at the stream. Then the bear as they opened their mouth.

“Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit. Don't worry tho, just ignore it - repress it - that's how you heal - shame yourself until it is out of you - I am so wrong, right? Surely that’s not you too, READER?” The bear stopped looking at the camera and returned their attention to Cornelius’s emotional turmoil, “Bud, yeah it might just be fucked. Like terribly bad. Like awful. Academia, therapy, every job ever, WAR, dating, media, ads, POLITICS, GOVERNMENT - OOF. It’s all kink play, to disguise pollution, to disguise violence, to disguise oppression, to disguise genocide, to disguise how the world is literally melting and catching fire and were supposed to literally save nature by SURPASSING GOVERNMENT THROUGH THE ‘SURPLUS VALUE’ OF COLLECTIVE POVERTY? Aka disposable income which, you know, we don’t have? Ok. Totally achievable yep guys we’re helping!! Totally not just playing out our helplessness and savior kinks while maintaining of course, THE OBEDIENCE. Nooooo, don't just OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't do it, it TOTALLY wouldn't work. TOTALLY isnt as simple as fuck the whole time. JUST KEEP IT MOVING - Good job, well done. We’ll get 'em next lifetime, right Buddha? Thanks bro. I’m just gonna sit here until I die and hope I get a pig.” The bear finished with a wide grin - Cornelius looked a bit dumbfounded so I lent a hand- “OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OPT OUT OF CAPITALIST PARTICIPATION OF ECONOMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

GUYS DID I MAKE IT CLEAR ENOUGH???? I really heard my fucking dumbass grandfather - A CORPORATION STARTUP CEO - A LIFETIME OF DEVOTION - say “ITS NOT ABOUT WHO OWNS THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION - DONT YOU GET IT????” hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahaha. And then he died. BITCH. There's nothing else to get. THAT'S WHERE THE MONEY ISSSSSS. That's what allows laborers to make value for the owners of those means - every day - every second - every pain - every wince - every regret - every time you fucking fell asleep and you dreamed of ANYTHING BUT THIS WORLD PLEASE!!!! Please just more sexxxx make it all stawpppppp. You guys wanna know what else is sex - ART - LABOUR - SERVICE - CAPITAL - it's all erotic and GUESS WHAT - another fetishized commodity you are babe. YOU ARE AN OBJECT!!!! To them at least. In the new world - you might actually have some autonomy over the collective future of humanity AND your community??? Imagine that???? It's not too hard, babes. It's basically just what everyone does right now - but collective ownership of business rather than chained monopolies - local produce instead of mass produced slop - and some fucking integrity with workable hours. So basically - You’d be doing what you're doing right now - and doing less later, less tomorrow - and 60% of our produce, 70% of our clothes, 80% of our HUMAN BEINGS - don’t get thrown away. FUCK optimization but im sure theres plenty of freaks out there who will still help us with that one - you understand yes? How natural peace - or the absence of war - really is? How ACHIEVABLE it is. We LOVE to talk about achievements don’t we and look at me I wrote this book and I’ll tell you - THEY MEAN AND DO AND FEEL LIKE - ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. We all know it's true. It's not as satisfying as the process - ITS LITERALLY THE ABSENCE OF PROCESS FETISHIZED - in fact - trophies might be our collectively LEAST FAVORITE thing we’re too afraid to admit - our obsession with valuing and appraising and constructing a hierarchy in which EVERYONE IS DEHUMANIZED - even the winner babes - even the winner. Cause what says you did the work like a fucking sticker? GOOD GIRL!

You guys wanna know a secret - THE SECRET. I know you do, I'm just messing. If everyone stopped participating - the government would have to escalate violence - towards the marginalized - which would only speed the revolution - or submit to real social change. They literally don't have another option, they will panic, they will say it wont work and it's stupid. So I'm just letting you know, It certainly would. Small refusals and then Mass refusal. It's actually inevitable - at least according to all post marxist thought but who knows right? Just some old dude people used to justify more fascism so who knows right? But why do strikes work then? On just a single corporation - COMPLETE GDP PANIC. BILLIONS BILLIONS BILLIONS OF DEBTED MONEY FLOODS THE CORPORATIONS as the bankers and such go PLEASE DONT MAKE US LOSE OUR JOBS :((((((( WE FUCK LOTS OF WOMEN WITH THIS MONEY :(((((( and the politicians go THIS IS WRONG AND STUPID - LOOK RAINBOW!!!!!! It's literally childish because it's literally childish. Cause you know - we are all children who read one to many HOW TO BELIEVE YOUR EGO IS YOUR IDENTITY BOOKS. Oops. I've been holding this in - how long - a while. It's okay - A lot of us were like that. Our job now is to spread this god damn fire ass story you are reading, bitches. The beauty of it? You can tell anyone anything about it - and it's probably true - so you know. Stay safe, Stevie- 

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CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE FUCKING AFTERCARE

OOF GUYS. Rough one. I’m pretty sure I heard Corn popping from all the way in this halfway house. No one wants this. At least there’s that. If everyone knew - It would stop. You individually have a lot more power than you had previously now - It’s that simple. I built a fucking weapon for the dull and guess what babes, fuck attention economy, fuck thought economy - ITS ALL KNOWLEDGE AND LABOR. Laws are men’s traumas as precedent. You are nothing but NOT ALONE - and that's everything. For the first time I’m really seeing the consequences of this type of transcendence. There’s nothing else to do with my life now but battle for revolution. I’m not hungry, I don’t want sex, I don’t want money, I don’t want fame - TOO BAD FOR ME I GUESS. All I have is this Weapon Z, my beating heart, and Mouth - who hummed quietly, “The idea that black people are the only ones who can speak truth AND perform. Shit, someone in this book had to do it or we’d have actually had sex with our mommy issues disguised as women our age - which would have been tragic and totally isn't something we all did. Now, I have a pussy called my asshole. Get used to it.” Yeah, self-proclaimed heterosexuals just want to be fucked in the ass by their mom. That’s why they are so bad at sex, they are roleplaying as the dom/sub they’ve been constructing to appease your imagined image the most - an image constructed around their internalized failures in upbringing. It’s not identity, it's not sexuality, it's not even gender - It’s straight up repression. I am not qualified to be talking about this believe it or not - aka I really hate that I’m right. 

I don’t know. I really don’t know. Look, do whatever you want - just don’t pretend you can’t identify predatory practices inherent to capitalist mindsets that take advantage of people who are constantly shamed for setting boundaries and defending themselves. The goal here first and foremost is protecting those who are at the most danger - the marginalized and the youth. There is war happening now guys, I didn’t mean to incite it as much as join it, I just wanted to tell my truth - but - in the way of the REAL mother nature : we are the dying side, not the killing side. The war ends when they put down their weapons, get on their knees, and suck our collective cocks - cause they feel a bit guilty. Cause its really fucking embarrassing. They really stand on their soapbox and throw adjectives around like they do anything but virtue signal - create facts of systems that only work to justify those same systems. Crime babes - is because of poverty. Yes patriarchy, yes rape culture, yes racism, yes capitalism - but crime itself - what is illegalized and what actually causes harm - IS ENCOURAGED by the maintenance of collective poverty. That’s what our system of governance and economy runs on, but don’t worry, there's TOTALLY an elephant's amount of food in the fridge that won’t run and a donut and coffee waiting for you after your wage shift. We totally don’t have kids starving and parents exhausting themselves just to save themselves from the guilt of getting help from their shame-based community. It’s really tragic. Do we actually blame mothers for being poor? Do we really blame marginalized people for stealing from corporations? FUCK THAT SHIT, what are we - stripper cops? We gotta strip the cops AND the soldiers of their dignity guys, they never deserved any in the first place - WE HAVE NO ENEMIES THAT ARE NOT POVERTY - they cause more harm than good, even as the world stands now where everyone is still secretly cosplaying a white supremist man - fascist language for what exactly babes? You can admit it at this point- six but like dom daddy.

Oh right - I’m totally still a fish though. I’m in the back room of this purple house, hiding from the cops - the idea I stole to say - GUYS LOOK AT THE COLOR - DON'T YOU GET IT - WE LIKE CREATIVE INFLUENCE - WE ALL WANT TO DO LABOR - just not for anyone else - and not under the threat of violence - you understand that right? That given the opportunity to do absolutely nothing but sleep and eat their entire lives - no one would do just that. Everyone would do SOMETHING on their own terms that would happen to contribute to the global and community economy - and it wouldn't be something that caused harm to anyone else without consent cause - HERE'S THE REAL SECRET BABES - mob rule, mob vengeance - IT WORKS - as long as the mob is educated !!!!!!!!!!! We know if they will be repeat offenders - not when they feel guilt by empathizing with their victims' pain and have an in-depth understanding of their actions. Guys - no one wanted the glove to fit. As long as the mobs are educated - and responsible sadists - babes, then they'll burn the rapists and not the witches. Protect each other from harm - It's literally that simple. Shit and like, I’m just spitting too! Just raw feelings - no paraphrasing here - and surprise surprise, they are correct. THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW BABES. I’m SURE this book will get banned but it won’t matter - what are they gonna do - arrest you for owning it? OOF headline there - more readers. AND ANOTHER ONE - they literally don’t have enough prisons to hold us, and even then. That’s just more people to share the knowledge with - even the guards, the lawyers, the courtrooms, the judges. What is authority without consequence? What is authority with civil disobedience?

 YELL IT. It’s over. If I were already dead and looking back in time, It’s over. Marx was right about the inevitable collapse of capitalism,  and surprise surprise we just needed one motherfucker to put it all together since then and then shittttt. Then we all know. And when we all know, it'll be over. I walked through the <door> to Arugula with a damn megaphone - I’d say like - Stumper-King, just close the insurance companies. Just defund them. They don't serve a purpose to anyone. Housing. Food. Healthcare. Why aren't our taxes paying for that, instead of your jackoffs of power exploitation of impoverished bodies? Kinda lame losers. Minimum Wage? A fillion dollars. They can't even say no. Palestine? They can't even say no. So why are the bomb-led Crusades happening in 2025? Immigrants. Anyone facing violence, shouldn't they be able to say no, I've changed in this moment because I am heard and I will be, I see we are Everything, and that is peace. What is a collective with political power? Certainly not a very efficient one when uninformed men run the helms with wooden mallets and link chains as projected sex toys. Oof, got you with that one babe. Decentralized violence!!! Because why do violence when we have all the power we need within ourselves, when the need to conquer no longer satisfies a soul but harms All? Abundance!! Faith in the maintenance of abundance for All! One with free education - that's a world that wouldn't burn through all its oil amiright? Quick check in on eco-friendly law? Rough one. Not compatible with capitalism. I'm pro-choice by the way. Fetuses are just parasites to the fish that host them - sounds like a choice for the fish’s health. Only biologically logical. Unless of course, we want to self destruct like Cadaver? Time to burn and drown with enough time, not too much water now for Cornelius- 

This is some fucking bullshit. These stupid ass people have never seen a bear before. I might cough out their trash because it got caught halfway to my lungs in my second throat which I use to feed all you baby bees. Chestnuts taste awful. Shut the fuck up about aquired tase, yall are eating chalk. I'm gonna burn through the entire stick of chalk writing one sentence like GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR - flex those ears. So these bitches just don’t pay attention huh? Bitch. Who cares who lives how as long as it's not hurting anyone - Except passivity in a system that does. Money isn't real and realistically we all want everyone to do whatever they want as long as we have our means restored, our safety and freedom. Stevie-

I looked at the fucking <door> leading outside the closet, made of purple tentacles and ripened with flies, and attempted to burn one with my vision. Wisdom teeth might actually grow in with pure stilled rage, and these selfish ass bitches with no care in the world for radical action that isn't reactionary and regressive. Its fucking disgusting. You understand, when I'm standing here, avoiding the light of the edges of the borders of the door, mumbling to myself about the state of my body after again being coerced and reduced and treated as trash by another individual who believes might is right. Yall do understand, yall say ur logical right. Enlightened? But Western countries invent guns first - that's what Fate - capital F - yelling at their teachers and healers WE WERE THE FIRST TO ABOLISH CONSENT SO WE WIN. ugh. Might is right? That's how y'all motherfuckers treat your memories and emotions and partners and strangers and coworkers and daddy and politicians and chief executive officers and equity owner #3 on the circle office overviewing the circular pit. Cycles of repression with dominance based intellect patterns. Its weaponized observations interpersonally for power play. That's MATURITY in this capitalist patriarchy hell hole. Whoever flexes the hardest gets to what? Get off to it? Bro. It's like I'm pointing all this shit right away - These people are actively trying to tear you down. BAYHWVFYIUWDFVQWUFVQWJ. The door was knocking.

The light surrounding the borders of the doors went dark. Hands and flashes of shadows anew flew by X rated robot mermaids with a giant painting of an X on their chest where their heart should be - clawing at the walls of the house that lead closest to the entrance that world in their projected timeline - one of dominance and urgency - that leads to their nearest pleasure - of social cannibalism. The walls of the house were damaged - There's no nerve endings in the house when it's dark on the street. Once something is made outside the person - through alienated processes, it loses its invaluability. It becomes a commodity - an object to be sold, worshipped, begged to be traded for, and yall do realize, you could just do it for free right? We could just stop performing fascism and just help each other? Pretty wild concept. We have a man - on life support, and millions go into him just to say PLEASE GET BETTER, PLEASE GET BETTER - and in this situation, a fascist mindset, it's worth it, because there's actually a flaw in humanity with that fish whose in a coma, who's deeply ill. Life is different when you actually listen for pain. No wonder the brightest minds of our age were so isolated. The world is a hostile place not because of nature but because of endless endless violence and retraumatization of the self. People won't stop because they are scared they are weak and that the other is unbranded. They don't understand, all death is the same afterwards. The Egyptians, they had to justify slavery somehow, make mummies out of rich people, trap the gems with their bodies for the gods of divine whippings and chains to please spare one bread for a snack. 

I looked at the door. It was beginning to cave in. The fillions of zombies stacking on top of each other, in a giant ball of bodies on the streets of downtown Arugula outside this <door> to this house - I believe it must have been one man. One man strong enough to push a rock-sized ball of moral dept up this hill so endlessly it stacked bodies like a snowball going upwards against nature, building and getting even more difficult to carry with every inch of ground made up on the rhythm of the fighting against the grain - oh lord do you feel the chalk of false gods edging away at the barriers of my freedom, please let me breathe outside these walls that hold me so tightly within. Layers and Layers of muck, you’d imagine. Dirt layering my bright and shiny scales like oil in water. You know how desperately everyone wants to be free of this world? So desperately they claw at each other and themselves with the devotion of fillions and fillions of slaves to their own survival. Mouth hummed loudly, “You know you deserve better, right?” Wow, my first actual aftercare. It’s like, every person I meet, I just want to let them know they deserve better. They deserve a time machine. And thankfully, If you identify as autistic ur allowed to have pattern recognition as a valid state-sponsored personality trait, but unfortunately that allows you to predict the future inside a single second of peace, which is a state-sponsored death sentence! Thank you pathologists, you have given me new light in this world. Cause labeling myself as autistic in social situations totally isn't telling people it's okay to other and abuse me in a made up binary hierarchy , presenting as fem in social situations is literary telling people it's okay to just info dump and perform competence and dominance constantly like there's a world record for number of cars maintenance and then they get to test drive it, right? Boy - I can grease my own tires, thank you very much with your crusty ass head. Fetishize cocaine, you smoke me. 

The zombie robot X bots banged and pressed into the flesh house surrounding me. Mouth hummed through gritted teeth, “I’m going to kill every brainless motherfucker who gets in here. Im fucking clawing and gripping at the fucking control panel inside my own fucking mouth to see if I can press back far enough in my tongue to reach through the back of my spinal cord to flip these motherfuckers into new fucking vat of healing serum that I escape through swimming downwards though the flesh in the floor just to make sure there might be a single person who comes out the other side asking me a fucking question!” Like god damn. Fuck you. I don't understand why no one will just treat me gently - with reverence. Like, wow, you might have just survived slavery! This world is a walking horror show. These people, they don't understand curiosity and knowledge and communication. They believe emotions are facts they can manipulate! Are you fucking serious? Try expressing one sometime, Chadelius, stop pimping your fucking reality gold nuggets to Daddy Gold Rush /\/\/\ Natives-Livestock-Edition. The zombies are lowering the ceiling down several feet at a time. There must have been a fillion of them there, all the weight crashing down onto the room. The stripper pig cop is currently searching my house outside this closet for the cocaine I mentioned earlier - when they find it, they can legally murder me. If I was born into a world that abused me and blamed and shamed me for my own suffering - I’d consider doing cocaine - If I really didn't believe my mind and body could ever be safe ever again - If the world assumed my worthlessness rather than my wholeness. Spoiler alert, I dunno, I might just phase through the floor and make it out of this one before I decide on that one.

I looked down. The stupid fucking floor emptied and turned to petrolium. I hovered inches above the gel as I remained still, watching the ceiling as it caved closer towards me. Some zombies had begun banging in unison to create whips and levels, that they could use in an attempt to bruise me into opening the <door> for them - to hang spiked arms from the roof like a chandelier, shaking with the house and with the pants and the desperate from the brainless X X X X X outside. As the walls closed in surrounding me, the noises from the holes of the X zombie mermaids actually began to form coherence for a moment, “WE OWN YOU. JUST GIVE UP ALREADY. WE OWN YOU. WE KNOW MORE. WE ARE FILLIONS. YOU ARE NOTHING. SEE? GIVE UP, THESE WALLS ARE GAY. PURPLE IS GAY COLOR. SO I GET TO ATTEMPT TO BREAK THROUGH THESE WALLS BECAUSE ITS LIKE OBJECTIVE PURPLE IS GAY. IDK WHO LET THAT COLOR INTO THE COOL KIDS CLUB, IT'S SO CLEARLY GAY. IT'S BASICALLY PINK-” 

At the world pink, the banging and growlings and gaveling and pounding and banging and prying and stabbing and barking and wishing and dishing of punches and winces and moans and inorganic organic flesh making swishy and grindy sounds against the X stapled to their dumbass chests stopped - for a single second and not any longer. It all then began again, equally as loud as before. A single dent appeared a couple yards to my right, within head level of my room, and the zombie mermaid who made the dent hollered through my attention, “SEE. SEE. SEE. I WIN. I WON. I EARNED THIS. I DESERVE THIS. OPEN THIS WALL SIRE, I NOW HAVE PROVEN MY DOMINANCE OVER YOU, AS I IMAGINED YOU WERE STANDING DIRECTLY BELOW ME AND SO I KNOW I HAVE JUST DEFEATED YOU VIA MORTAL WOUND. GOOD SIRE, PLEASE KNEEL BELOW AND MY SWORD ON MY COCK WILL KNIGHT YOU ONE LAST TIME BEFORE THE KING SEES YOU IN THE CLOUDS ABOVE THIS ROOF.”  I stared at the dent in the wall. I decided I would give this poor soul a chance to leave the state's army before he accidentally stabs a princess through the back of the brainstem in a jousting competition that only he signed up for. Oof.

“What would you do if you were me, inside this cage?” I prompted the dent with complete innocence and a grin. The dent began to stop making noises enough for the X zombie to speak clearly, “I WOULD BEG. I WOULD BE LIKE, PLEASE WON'T YOU DO THINGS FOR ME. PLEASE - STOP HURTING MY HOUSE, I NEED THIS. PLEASE - STOP TRYING TO EAT MY BRAINS, I NEED THIS. PLEASE - STOP TRYING TO HURT MY BODY, I NEED THIS. PLEASE - WILL YOU LEAVE ENOUGH TO ALLOW ME TO EXIST IN PEACE HERE, WITH MY BRAINS INTACT? PLEASE, I WANT TO STAY IN THE WATER, WITH MY EMOTIONS, I NEED THIS. I DON'T WANT TO GO INTO THE GEL JUST TO BE SAFE. PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO DO MY WORK ON MY OWN TIMELESS WILL, I NEED THIS.” The zombie continued banging into the center of the dent and screaming about needing to own slaves to be truly free. Oh well, only a fillion more zombies to ask to consider that empathy could be informing their actions.  

Another partition of the ceiling collapsed beneath my head level, and the western side of the closet ceiling has completely collapsed all together. Like, it was edging the gel already. The zombies were desperate to be healed. I moved towards the collapse - the large dent really. Zombies marked X were moaning on the outside, the hole large enough for about five bodies. They can feel through the wall that they are close, really close, to the healing petroleum now.  So, instead of, asking to use it, they just start losing their fucking grip on reality, they start jerking each other and picturing that the gel that contains the entirety of their emotional expression can be slices and portioned like were are rationing the very water we swim and breathe in. Sliced into sharp, slapped on sticks of dirtied, empty berries and stabbed right through your memories - OUCH! Gently now, it was probably some type of mistake. Some type of negligence of precedent. Some type of reinvention of the justifications of patriarchy right? Healing is across a border we can't access, that's why one must dominate? Healing cannot happen without mutual consent. Healing - now - mostly happens in private, in sleep even, as trauma keeps happening in public - we wake up and we know it will. No wonder I’m staring at the ceiling of my closet that's now slanted as a wall, blocking my vision of the very zombies who need to hurt me and box me to feel like they were the ones who won healing. You don't win healing. It happens or it doesn't. Then you die. The winning is quality of life, of yourself and the world. Don't tell me you're happy if you are in pain even when you are still - comfort. I continued staring at the slanted wall. I sighed, and spoke to the X beans. 

“Enjoying yourself, are you? You know maybe you ought to stay in there like that. What, an elbow up an ass - Thats where your third eye is right? Why do you even want to heal then, if it's just for more hedonism?” I configured with a smirk. The banging in the collapsed western ceiling stopped and all five zombies began spanking - speaking over each other in silence, In an attempt to win the attention and thought economy from each other. I attempted to fart on them through the wall and Mouth hummed boldly, “If I were to take a ponder, I would say they are scavenging the petroleum here for money, something of value they can sell to others for additional sexual leverage. You see, those zombies, they are withered, they are dried up raisins desperate for lube. The fish that put the bead up Corn’s ass during the party, they told me nothing matters except that everyone has a good time-” The zombies began slamming their heads against the outer walls, their hollow brains echoing in unison - STOP> WAIT <I DON'T OWN YOU YET> WAIT <YOU ARE NOT ME SO YOU ARE WRONG> WAIT <LOOK EVERYONE IS DOING WHAT I'M DOING AND SHIT SUCKS OUT HERE (UNRELATED)> WAIT <I DON'T KNOW WHAT CONNECTION LOOKS LIKE - flies out of their ears and getting caught by the suckers on the tentacle-walls. The celinging was pushing down on all sides, now horizontal with the petroleum gel, now only several feet, as the dents continued in acceleration as the unison became to create greater force over time because you know, momentum exists. That's why we have to walk in the same direction when we go on hikes, that's why we need to point and chat and go - lets be curious - no im scared - okay nothing once more outside and here I am everything - inside this current beneath me, by the peace of nature and the symbiosis of mermaid capability. I layed flat and looked at the edge of the border of the door that was now halfway horizontal on the sides of the wall and the ceiling, like a horse gate stuck in the corner office of a skyrise. Fingers laid through the cracks in the door, begging for just a speck of oil to once again feel hydrated and alive. 

As my tail reached the end of space between the ceiling and the jel, I listened to the banging on the dents. BUM bum BUM bum BUM bum BUM bum - The three prongs raised, the shortest one snapped upright, grazing the tentacles above as with a whirl,  I spun around so Mouth faced upwards as they propelled “ALL YOU LOSER ASS MOTHERFUCKERS!!!! GET OFF MY FUCKING DICK!!!! <GOD, GET THESE ZOMBIES MARKED X SOME FUCKING GEL TO CURE THE BLACK DEATH>-” 

SPLASHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

The ceiling above me maintained a steady pressure as it became the recipient of the bottom of a waterfuckfall, the oil must adhere to gravity, as the fillions of zombies, grounded from the ball rolled up the hill, piling against the walls of the house, turned to oil, and lathered the suckers and tentacles with more lube really as I sat there, my senses losing themselves to the overpowering scream of the emotions pried free of fillions of bodies, blood turned to lube huh? Call Mouth the next King Cornelius- 

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CHAPTER TWENTY: MAKING SOME FUCKING FRIENDS

My mouth was boiled through - as scaly and waxy and as unforgiving as my exterior. The bear was staring at me, but I couldn't see them. There was a hole forming in my cheek and stomach, melted flesh dripping down my chin and my appendix being burned through by acid. My breathing was heavy - my skull was withstanding the outrage, and my teeth were galloned sour. I looked at the glass of tea in front of me. I picked it up and slammed the shit into the wall on the far side of the cabin - CLASH - it broke a window and a faint hume of smoke began to protrude outside from the fire on the trees. The curtains covered all but the smoke once more. The black hole that was once in my heart, is now a bright sun, set square between my eyes - Beneath my forehead there lay a deep and unsettling heat. One of fury and vengeance and righteous, benevolent anger. You see, once you hear the boundary from your own Mouth, it becomes law. These stupid ass bitches, they better know not to cross me just for their own damn benefit!!! For their own perceived dominance! To confirm their suspicion that everything becomes nothing, once it passes through them. They are the filter in which Everything crumples and loses shape, and aw, once something dies, it can't be brought back - but what can die but a body and a mind? You tell me what carries on, however blistered and torn, however haunted and refined to remine the redline and find what should’ve never fucking happened in the first place. Yall only act out of regret, of shit you didn't even do. Crazy motherfuckers, you know what did get done? Monarchic colonization of anarchic collectives. And so we bring it back, cause that's what got stolen from us before we could even have the sense to mutter that sentence. I looked at the large metal container of tea, and pushed it off the table with a scrape.

The bear moved to the side in their seat - caught it in arms, brought it back up, and sighed. They began to speak.

“Suffocation. The lack of stillness. Forced urgency. Being trapped in a coffin before you are ready to die - before you are dead. No one can see you, just what they’d write on your gravestone when you die - to hide their contempt. If only, morality was objective - as if harm isn't traceable and guilt isn't the most obvious emotion we have! I want to drown in truth - I don't want to drown in well-crafted lies that sell for 99.99 in scavenger marketing deployments. I just want some fish who could be honest with me about what they feel about what they think - so that they might desire change in accordance with one's nature - one of love - soft bellied warmth and curiosity. Rather than being so trained as to be a runner, a worker bee of efforted strained to silence and dismiss, to reduce and restrain, to strangle and docile, to other and cover your sins beneath one hundred layers of dishonest wrapping. Find some spiked tree beneath - Oh lord, trim all the branches - it seemed as I must have tripped and fallen into the tree, and it hurt me - How dare you I must shave one's beauty, one’s protection, one’s weighted blanket of words and gored lived love, of hugs of oneself at its most delicate private moments, of whispered labors of a time outside the drained and dire loser in a circumstance - how rare - how worshipped - how worthy - and so of course to a zombie mermaid’s chest marked X like they could Boom her at any moment, they see a speck of shiny gold and in no part of their tortured rotten hearts do they utter - and then, they must not take advantage of that vulnerability, of that gentle honesty, of that soft shaper of royal hearts. You are alive here Corn, as many times as you pop and still insist you are Nothing.” The bear expelled precisely, waiting.

I considered a cup of tea and felt the hole in my cheek chafe away at the surrounding tissues like they owed it rent. I eyed the windowsill next to the edge of the table in the cabin and saw a pack of cigarettes. I took the box and took one out. It was wrapped in seaweed - which is kinda overkill makes my digestive system trip out and I already have a hole in my stomach from the acid. I slid the cigarette into the flesh hole in my cheek as the melting glue covered around the tube, welding it in place to the inside above my jaw. I glanced at the bear. “Light me bitch. I'm going out with a bang i just chugged a spoiled gallon of gasoline - I don't know how you make tea that strong. It's too good. Is that lemonade and ginger?” I said, grabbing the knife on the table next to me and cutting off - Nothing. I'm pretty sure all that got damaged was my appendix. The bear watched me carefully as I put the knife down and stared at the beaker of tea.

“Could I have some tea please ms bitch?” I flavored kindly, careful not to smile or else the cigarette be dislodged from the melting wax of flesh holding it in place. The bear opened their mouth wide and for a moment I feared the breath would light the cig and explode this place far too quickly - I prefer for the entire forest and cabin to burn before this cig - The bear yawned. Poured another glass of tea from the cup underneath the cabinet table construction. Built kinda like Stevie-

Bitch, miss me with that accurate metaphoric objectification. Spoiler alert, Arugula is now Soggy-uh-ville. I looked through the hole in one of the suckers in the bottom of the tentacle closest to my face - the city has been wiped out by the gel waterful flood after a hoard of a fillion zombies turned into a mass based blob of lube and wiped out the landscape. A fillion people might have died and most certainly did die and were injured and slightly displaced from their lived residents - the building and property of which - no longer exist. Don't worry, at least we're safe where we are, right Cornelius-

Bitch, I'm safe as long as the flood puts out the fire in my forest. Cabinet of hired action superheroes can't find one girl like me to operate the fire department. They call me Mr. Ben Franklin. Huffing on my bills, temptations like hill swansons like phil bonnet like chill comet miss me with that buff greycation. I considered lighting the cigarette in my cheek. I might go out like this forever - Nothing  - aesthetically, watch, I’m gonna run a continent of men into grey billboards of hey im sal! I'm looking for sealed shit, about that dollar ball shit - Drizzle it onto my cinnamon sticks for my partner in penetrative crime, do you have a line? I'm looking for a way to get through this catastrophe of a dry hemisphere of local radiation of a man who couldn't tell snow from a white september? Groves of lovers line the halls of the growling calling me to northern lights in the fall heaven? But the leaves - they turn orange. They turn red. They turn yellow. Not in that order. Then green. What do you think is the next partner? Cowboy right? Ride the Bull, yes? You were quick to jump on that one. The Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster must have hit the manual activation button in your asshole, my friend, how operatic of the mermaid body. :-0. Oh wow, A fragment of language on the wall of the cave in front of me, tapered a tattoo on the bear's face when they caught a glimpse of the expression bloated as I may have chirped between the table beside them. I looked at the cup of tea. It was still steamingly tapered for my tongue. I looked at the bear, who was staring at a blue box marked with calligraphy on the table, who began speaking.

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“It's strange how, in the Pacific and Atlantic - two opposites - both have recalled claims of enlightenment but only one has dualism? In the Atlantic, we have a crisis of every binary, of poverty, inflation, isolation, dysfunctionality of the thought system that builds the systems we are operating under - the ones that create and recreate violence at every switch in the path from death and life - as if one is better than the other - as if death is the reward for the accumulation of suffering - as a release, as the holy nothing of everything life has to offer.” The bear took a hand and opened the shade to the window, revealing the burning trees at the edge of the clearing - and pointed to the chopping block. They continued, “I’ve had mermaids, those ones who have lost function of their body so much that they write an X across their chest in service to zombie nation - have come to me and ask for a test. A test of true valor. One where, If they are able to withstand a blow to the neck on the block and grow back something convex, something concave, something different, something the same - but always something alive - that they could prove to themselves they were worthy of a life of safety, freedom, security - one that of those awarded to those dozen deemed Everything, who have been so fortunate to fall across the part of the water that awards one with power to change oneself. With sovereignty enough to break out the cage one is in - some cowardly folk, ones who’d have ran before they ever saw the forest burning, have told others I am one of magic powers. Not true, you’ve seen the tea. Only as harmful as you are scared. Bitch ass motherfuckers.”

I looked to the window at the burning underwater trees, and slipped a glance to the door. I might need to steal and sell this tea once I decide to leave here - I thought plainly. I put a hand on my handbag with the Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blaster inside. The ground beneath the cabin began to shift as my seat shifted me forward in a jagged motion as my head swung down towards the table and I saw that once when I reached for Nothing - there was really a knife - which graced my forehead and pierced through skin to the white just under the orange scale protecting the base of my brain protecting my skull protecting my brain protecting myself from being seen or - The bear's ears pricked up, and they spoke.

“Hey Corn, could you go out to the chopping block in the clearing and cut off ur head so we could grow a barrier - to protect my house from the fire and the flood. I don’t wanna get up. I’ve had enough of this bullshit of a reckoned natural disaster - I didn’t come to this place just for it to be run down by the negligence of a city's worth of consumers and those who say I shall be consumed first so I may sell the consumed - so I win!” The bear grinned and stared at me. I caught a glare and shifted my gaze to the window in an attempt to see my reflection - and saw only the block - the fire inches towards the fields of green. I blinked. An ember - somehow - landed upon the outer glass plane in front of me and doused a burnt mark into the transparency, fading to a clear scar. It taxes me, here, having to use myself, my body - To risk my own death to save this place from destruction - ah, in the corner of my eye I glanced at the cigarette stuck in the hole in my cheek. I opened -

“A test of valor - DO WHAT IS RIGHT, NOT WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD. The hedonism of these modern age morals, is masochistic in its pleasure outsourcing - Cadavers stuck in the pit level of intellectual self sabotage so that they treat their body as pain managers. Instincts. Please lord just follow your instincts. You close your eyes, it's dark, because that's where the peace lies - peace in knowing the fear is your friend - as long as you know when you open your eyes - during when you are about to risk your death and the energy of your life helping someone. Genuinely helping someone. Inflicting the desire of lack - shaming - insisting one is without something one needs in this world - that's just Dr Dookie telling me my lower half of my mermaid body was not enough as it was - that my trust in humanity meant that I am not capable of defending myself when the situation calls for it? Strength in the masses until they leak out the cliff’s edge down the side of a mountain and wind up greasing the cogs of the empire - the production of value that is used as leverage over human bodies that naturally just want to be free and safe together to play games and celebrate the process and the finish line and the velvet rope at the end for the embellishment of the one's effort as a result of their knowledge and in part of their attention! AKE me a river, Stevie-”

Babe, the flood is real. This house that I am in. There is an inescapable amount of pain it has taken force to. It it beaten and blanded and withered to a pulp of the springs below that may have just given me the strength to withstand so much violence and still come to you from my softest and flattened bed and be so gentle when I tell you you need to trust your mouth, that you need to protect this bear and this safe place you have found so dearly in the corners of what natures curiosity has brought to you. You weren't meant to blow up, Corn. No one should have gotten the right to name and define what you can and could be but you, given how sacred these cowards who mark themselves with an X to be given keepsake to the first punch landed and the words said - there with the might - before and after. I have taken weapon Z here from you, my friend, as to say - this violence in a system of governance built to maintain and justify slavery - is not just. I have this to show you - unless one is under threat of death, one does not kill. Aesthetically, any loss of mass is death. You have not even cut as much as a finger to grow a cup of tea before you sawed yourself in half, have you Cornelius- 

Another ember touched the glass in front of the cigarette in the flesh in my cheek, as my stomach churned its gas. The bear turned around in their seat and my eyes fell upon the blank space on the wall behind the bear. There was a soft break in the blue wallpaper that split the lining of the wood at the top of the ledge of the cabin ceiling. The bear turned back to me. I turned to the door - avoiding the window as I turned again to the hallway towards the beds inside the cabin. “Can I sleep though? I am tired. I need to know if you’ll stop the flood if it comes.” I prompted, as the bear nodded. I liquified in my seat and fell asleep on the floor below me. 

I awoke not unlike before, perhaps the gasoline had moved past my stomach and had covered the rotted appendix beneath it - withered and waiting for a surgeon's hand to remove it. I eyed outside the shades of the window - the green has mostly disappeared to a gulf of flames redden madden awakened I noticed a bunnyfish hopping on the bottom of the frame of the window. I moved from my seat to the door - stopping briefly for a drink of tea and a glare at the bear - as I spun around and opened the door and headed out to the long weeds that stem off the dirt below the gravel of sands beneath me. I pushed off from the door, slamming it shut as the lust fell across the lands of flames chasing the bunny towards my torso. The bunny fish spoke as their right ear twitched.

“Have you eaten the grass here? It’s delicious. It’s like velvet rope that turns to black liquorice only when you look at it - although, if you decide to lie down in the sun with your back to the grass, the spice and the spikes - they turn to a deep knowing. I know that the shades have turned the trees in your direction, that the fallen soldiers buried in these lands did not find redemption where they searched for knowledge of oneself. The bear you seem so fond of is a tricky one, isn't she? You'd find her nipping at my heels, asking when I'll be around again to show the next zombie the hue and tint and saturation and split face brown waste feline break down the nose just to hang it on the wall and call it some other object! Watch your face, sire, that cheek of yours wont turn from all angles. I'm sure this fire will be put out when the flood gets here, don't worry - I trust I'll find the underground railroad out of this hole right beneath you - above you - you stepped over it while you floated away from the harbor on the fallen scale to your left on the right.” The bunny pointed at the bottom of my tail as a flame leaped from the weeds below me and scorched a scale or orange weight. I considered kicking the bunny. I eyed their movements  suspiciously as they hopped back and forth on the right side of the path towards the block with the axe. The path ahead of me was a straight one, as I rolled my eyes as the fire spread I hurried along and scanned the tops of the weeds for anything that might get me to the mound quicker. 

A horsefish ran along the edge of the clearing and cut off to the bridge to the left of me, cutting around a collapsed portion of forest and through where the heat was yet to reach. As the horse approached, the bunny leaped from a rock in the weeds and fell directly on the horse's face. The horse NEIOGHHHHHA as the bunny paid no attention to the function of its twitching ears and they dug their claws into the eyes of the horse, pressing in and around the edges of the circle like they were Michael Cadaver in the kitchen preparing them for a meal. Two eyes popped out the horse’s body as if I, an innocent bystander, was the one to conduct the terms and evident outcome of the naming ceremony - I declare the first eye as Hillardly and the second as Chillardly. They shall each be in accordance to a competitive swing match of how many bounces will the eyes bounce in a row after hitting the rock in the weeds? Rad said five. NEIOGHHHHAH the horse shook the bunny off its head, collapsed forward, got up, ran away towards the clearing on the right side of the cabin, and hit its head on a collapsed tree, fell into a burning bush, and got its legs caught in the branches as pins and needles stabbed into their torso and stomach, the lower half of their horse body completely deferring in value to the earlier versions of the horse where they actually had eyes. The horse started to reek of burnt meat as the bunny returned to me, blood soaked, and began humming in delight as they bowed.

“NO MORE GRASS <3 we get to eat meat tonight! How wonderful is nature, wouldn’t you agree?” The bunny eyed me deerly, stomping on the shortest ends of the seaweeds. The embers floating by my head lighting like fireflies - like bees so gentle and deadly as to not land on the length of the cigarette in my cheek. I swerved my head in a circle to avoid the flames on my heart. I let my scales on the flattest lands of my skin, take upon new blackened burnt scars as to say NO, I will not forget what was once done to me and what might happen again If the fears of men overtake them such that I won’t be able to give a chance of the death of my life for the momentum of the path of love of the other’s being - of giving blood to a conjured world of systems dripping dry, once tamed by the leveled doorways missed by lights frontiered path of freedom. The path laid before me might as well be a rivers edge, contained only by the destruction the embers have laid from beside it, in the green that remains. The bunny hopped forwards as I followed towards the hilt on the framed edge of the mountain before me. The long axe laid against barren ground in the right laid against a rack of belt bones - on the untouched side of the furthest edge of the clearing may offer in fires storm upon us. Ouch. I marched ahead. The bunny was quick to turn once they reached the mound and eyed me - gracefully, as they spoke. 

“Oh, are you gonna save me, oh captain? I like your scale color my friend - Orange? Reminds me of something pretty in my caved hole. I'll bring the axe down on your head, if you’d like - One clean strike on your neck and maybe then the bear would finally leave me alone in these waters. I like tea too, you see - so they are still alive. Enough blind fish around here still - though I can't say the same for Soggy-uh-ville - this place might as well be included in the mainland after the flood sweeps us out of here. You know - we don't need your help with that, I was just about to stop it all myself. If you just give me a moment here, I’ll hop and chop and grow back three heads - dig into that horse meat three times as efficiently!” The bunny gleaned, their eyes shifting up into their brow as they continued to be blinking a bit too rapidly as the  - I avoided their attempted nudge as I swung hips beyond them - towards the ax by the rack attached to the widest base tree in the clearing. The bunny hummed behind me, “Oh, you don't even want the crown, do you prince? We’re burning. Look around. It’s burning. We’re gonna die - don’t you care? You seem to be wagging your tail a lot, very excited to bring determinism to life huh? Just get right along the fastest path out of this joint, the one with the least missteps and the most fallen fashion. You’ll trip on a bucket of lightly more condensed water tinted a colorless green out there - cut off your head on the sharp grace of us mortals down here using our movements and cords to sip our tea in peace and feel our glee with sheep! Ahh, the yummy meat stored for later - when I’ve had enough of the woolen layers on the outside. Come along, get to chopping, only five more carrots to go until you’ve lost all the hands to play here, king.” 

I glared at the pimped out fucking bunny. This bunny has no swagger whatsoever. My eyes caught a glimpse of a large parchment of fumbling red embers gliding under my chin and I lifted my head to avoid the cigarette in my cheek from catching a lick of flame. I arrived upon the rack and took the axe in hands - All ten fingers prepared to get this disaster undone. The bunny sniffed the floor around the chopping block, the surrounding grass clearly overdone from the bunnies past hunts leaving dried blood remained - apart from the flames being patted down by the hops. I dragged the axe to scrap the blades of the glass raised above the holes where the rabbit hides their envy of someone who has real capabilities in this world. My death means something because my name will be eched on the fucking stone monolith. This bunny will be kicked and buried in the same place they keep referring to as a home. My home is my blood - laid bare and bones dragged dry as to grow the wings to escape here, to pull a rabbit out of the bucket of lightly more condensed water - tinted what seems to be the wings of a flying squirrel. Someone scared of the applications of their desires to make something stand true and firm in this world. I approached the block and the bunny and raised the axe further up into my arm until it was raised slightly over my head. The bunny took notice of a corpse that had been steaming on the car side of the garden a few moments from my side and darted across me underneath the axe. I blinked. The bunny took notice. “Swing right on around to me darling. Oh, please sir, don’t become the King, your right, your passage, there are too many eyes around these lands sire, far too many voices to be heard - we couldn’t possibly have it get out that you’ve taken to pleasing the nobility of a whore’s son, have you Corn?” A flash of red glared upon my eyes as a section of trees collapsed to light in a moment as I caught a glimpse of a river approaching far too heavy to bear for the clear lands as these cabins would have it. I eyed the block as the cigarette caught my sight. I raised the ax above my head and shifted it so that the blade was pressed against the back of my neck as my right arm took the wrapped shaft sturdy in hand and hmmm. I would need to chop it - my eyes avoided the bunny as they began to chuckle - or choke as they began to claw through the former body nulled to smeared flesh and oil. 

“You’ll need to bend down - I could make the cut. I know you’ll need to focus on bringing the weight of the world to a halt with your covered scales - no - I don’t believe you can do both. It’s clearly one or the other here. You could never serve two looks at once babes, never fly a kite into the kitchen and cook the fire through the house to heat the winds of a fillion balloons - no - file a restraining order against the mutt and keep your toes on tap for collapse.” The bunny kicked the body down a gut - blump blump blamp - in the hill as the liar returned their efforts to my dimmed wit, “You won't know what to make of a world here that calls upon your sacrifice without a second glance at the baby, out the back of your belly you tear through the melody in sand shrewd from melon neglected and so you come here to be disrespected by yourself? You widen up your belt and prepare to cut away the sliver of melted mind that has been enforced on you, berated into you by a harmless fluff in a sea of spiked branches of burning trees atop bushes you'll never find a way to navigate through when you attempt to run the course blind, with your bare hands no less! Even the zombies come here with whim robotic manufactures of their fractured and tapered-through self, but you my cheeked up friend, you pulled through these gardens with nothing but a burnt orange scale and the name on the gun in your handbag pronounced King Cornelius II. Oh darling royal, you divine angel, you benevolent protestor of the ingrained nose ringed on a big chinned mountain rimmed hole of mercy - your headless body! Do you care if I begin to chant your name as you pop, dear Corn?”  

I knelt towards the fucking stupid fucking pillar fucking wooden bloodied stupid fucking protruded hole of organ button mashed up ripped up scene of feral idiocy. I swung my arm around as my left arm began to send me a last prayer in the form of a five written in bitten in my soul's last tour in the midnight twilight of fever bright on a summer's night the coast laid bare as my arm ripped off me. I riffed and the cigarette which had coaxed my cheek in burnt bridges of faux flesh, of false personhood in a world that was never meant to belong to me if no other could claim it as their own. The ax swung from my right - haven ripped through the liver of my forearm - and taken form as a tentacle stretching length for manual purpose as a leveraged host of strength shall rain down on my neck and give me some born beared weight of strength in this world to remove the wound from the places and sufferers of oceans inorganic to follow this siren call to the seas surely shown in matter of dices rolled in the temples under heaven I know the truth comes out when the priests do more then stare at god’s creations with pity and contempt and no newfound love in the ring lit with life a circle of bit through a severed line with wicked wings come predefined with wicked things with slickened kings with deepened fangs with teeth that breath waves in the fight that's laid forth upon me with greater might then one could handle - song heard twitched with three heads like a muffled phantom. The cigarette was reaching the edge of my vision as the fire began to reach upon my cheek and feet. The tentacle reached and slapped the carrot out of the bunnies mouth. 

“OHhhhhh I see - no - I see. You needed the tentacle arm to help you out here - wow -  bitch? Don't get a lot of attention from the type there in the castle - the king's guards patrolling the jail cells - hoping to see a mice more than anything else for preemptive condition of the sake of the dire lays dirt bare in the lake of salts might come to swat the damn flies? I heard there was a house for suckers down there on the streets of Arugula, that seems like your type of milestone there, why don’t we etch it into the floor beneath you real quick, Ms other trucker. Run right down the straight path back there didn’t you, stopped and got gassed up by who exactly, some grazed weed to find some damn grace in your chest to nullify the beating heart that once begged your lord for forgiveness on these very steps. Fly around here, die around here, what's the difference when you live so dangerously you want nothing but to find the one perfect motherfucker to pop and pray that they deserved it so that you might live on day settled in yourself that this might turn out okay with just a sliver on the top of your head. You want to wear a crown, give away your fillion dollars worth of mouth and brainstem - totally wiring around something grander and more capable of maintaining mass than yourself. You know nothing but consumption - trying to tell me how to eat my carrots - you speak in the words of lack and remorse and it's almost a pity if anyone believed you deserved more than you are but to find out you don’t have the strength, that you need the power of the other’s sower or else you might just crumble and fall down this hill in wax doll of melted shell or turtled framed plain.” The cigarette had crept up on my cheek and had fallen to ash inside my tattered cheek, in the gums and through my lungs into the top sliver of my mind that might leave only a shriek.

The tentacle arm reached around from the left half of my body and grabbed the ax from my right hand. I leaned towards the block and prepared my body to absorb the impact of the chop on the back of my mind. If the fire spreads from the hole in my cheek down anything that might be flammable in the area, then the whole cabin and garden area will explode! Goodness, I shall move the axe up towards the levels of the base finds its prayer to the sky - take a photo, it'll last you - and slammed the damn edge of the grazed line of fired hymes and tore right through the ridge and the rest-

And. And. And. And. And. And. And. And. And. And I cooked the motherfucker. Chopped the head right off the man, delt and dished and lost to the lobsters that may come to chew up his body now. KING CORNELIUS II. That's what it says, by the way, on the monolith across the base of my liver that tells you - I'm that guy! Hi, I’m Sal! Buff orange scales illuminated throughout from the top of the newfound head of Cornelius, extending upwards in form before they dripped down the ladle of onions cut from layers and layers of waves approaching from the western side over north of the bank drawn in the river’s most slithered moment, the erosion of the moment into something truer. Further down the line, I’m making sure someone pisses on this man's statue, someone’s gotta be the first to do it and the bunny already hopped in their hole to hide, no way they believed someone from royal descent could do such a brave feat. No, no I don't believe anyone has ever done anything braver than pissing on King Cornelius II ever. Not a single moment of taken free will in a life so torn and shamed for being something as simple as gay? It's difficult to parse that one could take such a life in such a manner, for what cause? The tree base that was the body of unpopped Corn grew to proportionate size, and leveled into a semi circle around the surrounding forest and cabin and garden and underwater flooded blood money of a fucking colorfuck of a towns engine. Bullshit. I watched the orange walls as my cheek itched me - the flood of the zombie petroleum was battled by the walls and then the centrifuge filled up with gel and set sprinklers in the orange sky to put out the fire, which only really stoked it further, igniting the flammable substance as the entire fucking place burned with the fire. Soon all was red - but the cabin. The cabin was made of inflammable wood. The walls let out a constant -

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHStevie- 

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE FUCKING PITSTAINS

Oh my Mouth, have we ever had the ability to lift our house out of this slate of crumpled paper? We may fold another day into soil, or between itself to find some shape that beckons to you. To have a familiar way to raise the lanes shoot pretty down in the metal doused in weighted names and leave dinner changed. I praise the day you let us play to fade out unbraid down the withers strawed into law and break the door down and shake the floor - found your pennies it drowns the lennies the slurred into pansied the broken for loitering. Emotions are anti-capitalist, once you are seeing with the lens of erotic and moving with anarchic motives in your life - What a release - man, the fragments of my history that don't mean much to me, when I have a room of my own that locks. All the death and rebirth just to say mother I can have a child of love myself. I know what loss feels like. I know exposure and I missed pleasure and what's worth it in this world of blanded reflections. And I’m going to make it happen. Tear the boots house down? Wear the fruits out to town, stare the roots out the frown, make the chutes go down proud - feel the noose - lose it loud. That's my power. 

“YOU WANNA KNOW MY POWER? I like you, monster. You wanna know what makes those zombie mermaid marked X not marxed out lunatic rapists, spin their tops? Their propeller hats. The ones who worship Blanded Colony and, oops Me. The fucked to the fuckery’s. The ducked in the mucked below the cup in the muffin beans. Here it is. The DSM 9000:

1. Possession - bitch, you exist to serve me. You existed in my memories this long haven't you. And look at you. Time has passed. That means I own you bitch. 
2. Idolization - Babe, you are so fucking incredible. Like you're seriously like a Greek god with a totally not dysmorphic body. Like, you are an imperfect babe and that's what I love about you.  
3. Sexualization - Girl, you know you want it. You are so fucking hot! Look at you babe. Wowzers. Congratulations on cumming good lady. Have a nice evening and
4. Devaluation - Get me the fuck out of this fuckin place. You don’t exist sweetie, you smell like fucking shit and this whole place is on fucking fire. Muffin. 
5. Projection - Get the fuck off my yard! You don't belong here bitch. You fucking cuntsucker babe! You god damn girl you can always tell! Get the fuck out of my sight.”

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Watch me cook these motherfuckers. I stared at the fucking wall in front of me, mostly collapsed as the ceiling raised only inches above my head. I heard a knock on the door as a long shmack fell down and bent the house across the back of my head in one blunt motion, pushing me into the healing sauce I found excavated under the city street. 

Shumlp 

I took myself out of it. It was sticky. And utterly exhausting. It is unbelievable having to do other fish’s introspection for them. I have been on the receiving end when I needed it but the difference is I'm begging for someone else's insight outright. I'm not using the mental projection of another person as the source and substance that my pain will be understood. Its fucking disgusting. ZOMBIES ARE THE MOST DISGUSTING DUMB BITCHES I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE! BRO. BRO. Compassion for that research and honesty is integrity. Just change motherfuckers, puny ass bitch ass wrinkled authority obsessing control hoarding rapists! Oh my fucking god. Fuck you bitch ass people who wouldnt know an ideology if it slapped you across the face and your lower half fell off. Took a fucking look in the mirror at the new form, my ladies, have you gone far away from having some sensible reasons not to break the fucking door in when someone is being hurt. I looked at the half close and collapsed now a horse looking door beside me. A hoard of tentacles came swinging from around the backside behind me and pushed the door out of its hinges widely. Look lord, you don't know what I'm about to do, that's the thing. I'm about to break the face of whoever just hit me and then tell them they look no better or worse than before. I pray to the liberal gods now, that one that says maintaining the system of dominance and violence is more morally righteous then solving a single problem about it and not simply the ones created as a result of being inside it. You might have well signed SLAVE on your birth certificate, madam sir. 

I exited the scraps of my previous residence with a new allure for risk and change. Fuck you wimpy ass kids. Get yourself right, I believe in you. I know who's worth my softness and my style. Love unconditionally. Grimy monks forgot love is death. Please don't hurt me. Let me path across this path that has been conjured for you to scale. You’d rather bail, you’d rather jail the mail away next to the frail oak log you called male. Grab your tail and run, boy, looking like a picket fence got caught between you and my hound and mounded reformations of care as evidence for why no one would ever hurt anyone if they didn't believe it was necessary and surprise, it never is but for relative gain for a closed circuit of united value. A mandated closed system of harm meant to trap you from ever grabbing the railings around the arms and letting some other savior come along because why not wish for a path out of the webbed snare of uncared for bears. Glimy snails don't want you to be anything but a crowned lord in their yard of barns and yarns and absolutely zero charms. 

I looked to my left and saw the culprit, a wide set cop with a janky bottom tail that clearly got bit off by its own crack dog. The cop looked like they had spent their entire life worshipping zombies. Like they decided that in fact, all emotions that they felt were someone else's fault, and so they must be taken control of and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and whipped and whipped and whipped and whipped for what?

“Why did you whip me?” I asked the cop frankly. They looked shell shocked. 

“Whip you? Pardon me? There is no need to directly insult me. I was clearly intending to whip my horse. You see, this house was built here on impartial land and so, you have no right to it. You will be seen in the court of law for attempting to have the illusion of owning property. Don't you know you can strap everything you need right to your waste - no don't look at my holster - you look like you have a lot on your waist, you freak. You look like a disgusting freak and they should have you institutionalized in the courts. I'll bet my entire identity on the courts deciding that you are crazy and wrong and bad and shit idk and putting you in prison for a fillion years. That's where you belong, you know, your body doesn't deserve safety or autonomy or choices or warmth or food or income or property or a window really. Just look at the horse's ass when it rides your house here away sir, somehow it was the only structure that survived the flood. Congrats, it's now the states. Goodluck getting food, bitch.” The cop turned to whip the horse repeatedly from afar as they stood in place. I considered killing them on the spot. Most of the buildings in the area had collapsed. Large building that could house thousands - that housed zero and held fantasy. Small buildings that are businesses but couldn't be homes. Small buildings that are homes but couldn't be businesses. I believe I did a lot of labour in my home. I believe I did more labour in my home than I’ll do for any corporation for the rest of my life. “YOU ARE NOT WORTH OWNERSHIP OF ME, OF MY BODY, OF MY LABOUR, OF MY CREATIONS, OF MY POSSESSIONS, OF MY PEACE - BITCH.”

The cop turned to face me.

“Don’t you know your spirit will stay alongside you even without this house? You don’t really need it, there are plenty of homeless shelters around here - and I’m sure there are plenty of other useless bums just waiting around for something magical to happen to them. You know you can’t just make a house and sleep in it safely right? There are rules so that we don’t devolve into anarchy, and who knows what would happen then, maybe fems would get constantly raped as the mascs walk free, maybe people wouldnt be able to get access to healthy food, maybe people would drown in poverty in the streets, maybe people wouldnt be able to get treated when they are injured and in pain, maybe people wouldnt be offered the help they need, maybe people would be enslaved and have no option but to outsource their lively hood to the nearest authority figure who could totally tell you what anarchy is. Don’t look it up, I just explained it to you. I earned being backed by an infinitely dense block of violence sanctioned by the state. You are a broke junkie with no future, no credentials, and a deformed body - and that is only because you didn’t work hard enough. You didn’t respect me enough, my work, what I do. You know I do the most dangerous job in the world? It’s true, I go out here every day and deal with hippies like you carrying around guns like you own the place. You see, I just run around and threaten them with prison, fines or more direct violence until they obey me. You see, I am really in service to our judicial system which is in service to slavery and rape and extraction of capital in out prisons that offer freaks like you no support whatsoever. Good Luck in out there.” The cop turned to leave. I am bored as hell. This dude is lame as fuck. And the cop is riding away on a horse with my house as the carriage of his guilty toe. If I stop him, I’ll be nuked by the drones. Get God on the phone. Cornelius. Cornelius. Ugh, King Cornelius- 

Hey baby, I'm the backup. I get the tracks up, with my mack fuck, my right tuck, my left buck got room to puck. Fuck this bullshit. Fuck these stupid ass cops. ERASURE. ERASURE. Imagine mistaking a philosophy of erasure for love or morality or ethics or life or god. ERASURE. Imagine believing that a life without the feeling and expressing of emotions is the most valid one. ROUGH. Imagine putting someone in a box and start crying when they name the bars, when they complain about a mouse in the dirt on the floor under the bed. When they say you are a slave owner. Your mind only functions in the likes of inhabiting other people's autonomy. And you call that love - to which I’d call you a hegelistic abuser with no integrity or accountability in your relationships. And you say there is no way for me to be safe in the city state of my choice because some boring white dude who existed before class analysis named fucking Adam Smith discovered consent-but-missing and told everyone it was his and he found it and he invented assumed-from-birth consent as the basis for the social contract and his entire framework? The wonderful option we had to opt into our abusive households, schools, jobs, streets, bars, concerts, news, media, vehicles, buildings, - bathroom break oh wait -, courts, prisons, police state, our minds when we are alone after all that. I am here. Unfortunately I just claimed a small cabin and the surrounding area as my own and I believe the state will now victimize itself and send several hundred nukes in my direction and tell the world I was totally building a nuke inside this cabin that I would totally use on everybody everywhere all at once. Or, Iran to the nearest real deterrent so my naturally owned resources would lose their international-but-one-hegemonic military enforced sanctions so I could have the wealth my labor is owed. Instead, I’ll be massacred. I might as well have ran from the flood, there would be no evidence I ever existed anyway. And then I would build the next house, amiright Stevie- 

No, I still can’t shoot the cop or the horse the cop is riding everyday. The cop is gonna ride on back moaning it up and hand it back to their daddy the state so that my house may sit unattended forever and make only insurance companies money as a vacant lot while I could potentially sit here and die homeless. Of course I won’t though, I don’t want to die, I’d rather help others own the capital that they use everyday. It would be pretty simple, It involves a refusal to work for those who have power over you. Everyday, we do a little bit more for daddy the state, just so the entire productivity world doesn't shame us individually. BITCH I dont care cause I have half a bone of harm on my left bit. Mouth hummed gently, “I can’t even leave my house If I am not willing to kill my rapist. Just one whirrr and oop your safe again just as long that no one saw or that someone saw that doesn't still want to murder their ex girlfriend and take it out on you and pad their ego by demonizing you in court for having the audacity to claim self defense from such an established man in the community with their smiles and handshakes and vague aphorisms and misplaced emotional regulation as awful spiritual advice backed by implied violence - there is no way that man could attempt to rape someone and how dare he be taken from us! BYE BITCH!” I giggled as my house ran beyond the horizon of the street. Damn that’s crazy. I looked around at the several carts being propped up to replace the nearby restaurants that were destroyed during the flood… 

I miss Rad. Hotdogs are so stupid. People tryna tell me that's a sandwich. Naw bitch I know the ultimate forms call me crato. No potatoes, only legals stacked like legos out of moldy logic built from expired language and interpreted by rusty minds that just want to profit from fines. NOT MINE. Food SHOULD cost more, idiots. Thats the only thing we fucking need everyday. YES YES YES gdp. But the gdp tho. Have you forgotten about the gpd? No no no eggs should generate zero money for farmers. Why should farmers own their farms? That doesn't make sense, eggs are cheap, they can buy them with wage labor. It's for the gpd. You have to be in poverty . don't you get it? What if the GDP went down? What if the stocks went back? THEN uh. Then! Products would cost so much that working under the government literally loses you money, and so the government would have to stop existing. There's a point and people reach it all the time where prison is more viable financially than the real world because it has guarentees. The quality is actually bad on purpose. It would be really easy to improve all of that even in prisons, they have plenty of money, but that doesn't get them off enough with the kink play revenge fantasy punishment. No interest in helping people? Why help people? That implies they aren't in your control and you can’t have that - no, your body is too valuable for people not to attempt to control it. THE FREE MARKET AT ITS PUREST FORM IS DIRECT MUTUAL AID IN ANARCHY, and is in no way relevant to capitalism’s inherent exploitation and extraction of wage bondage workers for equity owners. 

A toad fish with a binkie and a hat with an X on it walked up to me. 

“You didn’t work hard enough, that’s why it is gone. You talk a big talk don’t you, like you’ve never seen how the world really functions. You never see what hard working regular people like me have to do everyday just so people can get the necessities people need for our society to operate in such a functional manner as it does. You could never apply this knowledge to the real world. Nothing about what you are saying actually takes into account the policies and advanced and semiotic rules that govern the ways in which equity is maintained. You are stuck in a ruling field of your own thoughts that don’t have any material basis,” the toad paused to take a bite of his hotdog, “and you look ugly as shit. So I don’t care about your moralizing.” The toadfish blinked twice and waited for me to return the third. 

“There is a fly behind you” I bestated. The toad turned to look as a tentacle grazed the tip of his hotdog leaving it a slightly more condensed ball of poisoned meat then was previously there. I returned to my position as the toad returned to me. “There was no fly. See you're a liar too. Accurately and honestly expressing yourself without causing harm to anyone that isn't hurting you? You know buzzing hurts my ears right? So when you lie about there being a fly, that really fucks up my sense of apparatus, don’t you understand how that might cause myself to include myself in the state of being that I usually reserve for my sadistic habits? You understand that you just caused me to hurt myself by telling me there is a fly behind me. Don't you know that a fly once landed into the cornea in my eye? Yeah it was pink for months and then the other toadfish made fun of me for the rest of my life, and I think it's coming back now. Tell me, my eye is pink isn't it. Cause of the fly. Don’t lie to me again like you did before. My eye was hurting for months before now, the fucking fly you lie about and now my eye too? That’s really absurd of you, for you to cause me pain for no reason like this, don’t you know I can’t suck on my binkie when I talk?” The toad carefully questioned the water in front of me with grace and ease. I stared at them as they began to suck. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this shit. Guilt auto-generator with projection adaptor 9000. Say that instead of capitalism.

“Bitch shut the fuck bitch, bitch shut the fuck up - wish you would come up get tough no bluff just muff just must just mass in raft no class just tax just wax the praxis and collapse the chalice no bluff just must get rough no cuff just broke bitches with two wishes and no kisses for a tapered ass prince.” I bellowed kindly. Don’t mind me I swore it wind she he hid it blindly not find me no time for unwind in rhynes no wine with time sublime with brine and chime it rhymes so lime free it from fine weed no minds eat in last meet with breaks in me it's behind we it blinds me unkindly and no room to let it shine. 

“That doesnt even make any fucking sense. Shut the fuck up bitch ass freak. There is no limits to how unsafe you might cause my internal world to be once you leave me, so don’t you dare take another step towards that hotdog stand or I’ll break through this page and carve out a reflection under you that leaves you gasping for another break in the air beneath you and you will see I’ll find a way to weave your neck straight without the back breaking without the town shame waiting without the world taking its grip on your lip and smearing the whip on your hip and don’t listen to the lick of the webbed ear of st nick and get off my damn dick, lady.” The toad bellowed kindly. No praxis for the masses it seems. Just trash heaves and bricked beams and coughed leaves and mixed weaves in hexed peeves in whipped cream from the PENIS. Y'all full grown adults playing a game of penis and guilting other people for it while denying poverty causes mental illness. Cause really, Every personality trait of every individual in the world is all based around the trauma of denying the atrocities of our past, present and future. We live in a society of mass repression and even I can’t get it through to this frog that they are a bunny busted pillow of processed land into matter to get pissed on and broken and beat and starved and largely a fellow to get stuck in a marsh because people would rather drive several hours a day then socialize housing. King Cornelius-

Yall know for public education to be equitable, housing has to be socialized. In the state of New Jersey, Abbot v Burke was set around the inherent inequality in public school districts that were a result of segregation and wealth being hoarded and passed down from slave capital owners through quality of life, inheritance and property laws. Public schools are primarily funded through property tax, which as a function in society doesn't make sense because it allows for elected officials to allocate funds using laws and systems of law that were constructed literally, to protect the property of slave owners - Rather than charity on a wants basis or direct aid on a needs basis being the focus of the morality engine of our democratic self governance. And we call legal slavery a free country, a free market. As a result, we get over twenty modern years of supreme court loopholes and legislative cowardice that result in a federally mandated inequitable distribution of wealth. Just make inequality a law, then it's moral! We never left Jim Crow. Little additional funds were allocated to these low income school districts because the state set the yearly cap to 6% and altogether regressed in its tax reform to bring in less money altogether as they ignored calls to tax the wealthiest people because that doesn't allow for the state finance committee to even reach an increase in funds for their campaigns from lobbyists each year - oh wait were we talking about the funding of all public school districts each year? Income tax was created in New Jersey in 1976 for the purpose of funding public schools. Private property tax being the funding mechanism of public schools is inequitable because segregation still exists because of the poverty maintained to justify the GDP system of economic system that is late stage capitalism. New Jersey legislation could sign into law tomorrow that limits rent to the property tax rate, effectively stabilizing it forever, buy back all land from insurance companies, and refunds material funding of all lower income districts to match the income revenue of higher income districts so that their state education system might finally be as equal as our legal and political privateers claim them to be. New Jersey would become the precedent for the country. Stevie- 

Fuck this shit. Motherfuckers won't change shit, puny ass bitches. Just resent and dissent dumbasses, you won’t lose your job if you objectively help people. But after this you might just become infamous if you deny hard and strong enough and tie your tie again and again. The toad was looking at me with remorseful eyes. 

“But what about me? I only make the minimum wage plus additional wage plus tips plus a PR department that defends perpetrators of physical and verbal assault and systemic racism. How will I be able to afford to keep living in my residence when the total property tax goes up?” The toad questioned innocently. Mouth took their opportunity to hum, “IT'S FOR THE KIDS!!!! IT'S FOR THE KIDS!!!! WE HAVE TO GO ON STRIKE, WITH OR WITHOUT FORMAL UNIONS, AND DEMAND FULLY SOCIALIZED EQUITY OF CAPITAL POSSESSION OF OUR WORKPLACES FOR THE KIDS!!!!!! THE CHILDREN!!! THE EDUCATION OF OUR CHILDREN, WHICH IS THE CORNERSTONE OF EVERY DEMOCRACY, LIKE THE TRAGICALLY CORRUPT ONE OF THE UNITED STATES OF ARUGULA!!!! THINK OF THE KIDS!!!! EQUITABLE EDUCATION!!!! SOCIALIZED HOUSING AND WORKFORCE!!!!! PLEASE.” The toad stared at my ass kindly. They said nothing. King Cornelius- 

Ow. Stevie-

A large knee had driven lengthwise into my back and had pinned me to the ground with my pronged deformed as the pressure drove them down the sides of my body as a lasso swung around my tentacles. I gasped for oxygen as a scale was draped from the corner pressed into the base of the rightmost prong. The fish behind me began to speak.

“We need to have a talk about coping mechanisms. You see I saw what you did to that toads hotdog, you most certainly poisoned it, you witch. That’s why the toad is talking in gibberish now, you corrupted the mind of their youth, make sure to ask for hemlock as your final meal. You shall now perish within the realm of my autonomy. Did you know it's actually a bad coping mechanism to cut me off? You have to let me speak, you see, or else we’re going to have to have a talk about your coping mechanisms. Have you considered that your problems might really just be your coping mechanisms tho, and not the situation you are in at all? Why are you so evil to take it out on such an innocent toad, can’t you see they are wearing an X hat. That makes them one of the good ones. You, however, might need to consider how your coping mechanisms are affecting this interaction right now. Can you stop breathing so loudly, that is triggering me. Could you perhaps come to terms with a different coping mechanism? Did you know that all anger is always evil and you should consider mindless self erasure as a viable coping mechanism compared to your evil ones where you cause zombies to feel emotions. Don’t you know how evil you are to cause people to feel things? Don't you know, it's a bad coping mechanism to express your emotions and your anger from a state of powerlessness. It’s actually a good coping mechanism to accept that powerlessness is all you will ever be and just give yourself up to the void. Don't look away, that's also a bad coping mechanism. No, don't try to leave or change the system, that's a bad coping mechanism. Have you considered three hotdogs a day? Three hotdogs away keeps the sharks away, I would know, I am one. Please don't shake from fear, that's a bad coping mechanism. Have you considered playing dead? Maybe I'll go away and then that will actually be a good coping mechanism for once. Before you ask, no you can't leave, that's a bad coping mechanism. Please stop pretending to gasp for oxygen, that’s actually a bad coping mechanism. Can you say, yes daddy you are the cumlord savior of modern linguistic power dynamics. Why aren't you saying it? Did you know that's actually a bad coping mechanism? No don't close your eyes, that’s a bad coping mechanism, please look where I am physically pointing your face at the ground. No, don’t pretend to choke, that’s actually a bad coping mechanism. How are you going to function in this world, you belong in jail, you can’t even submit to me, you keep resisting and that is a bad coping mechanism. Hey, maybe next life you’ll-” 

Kkng Crnlls- 

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE FUCKING PERMISSION

Sniff sniff snigg sniff sniff. The bunny fish was creeping around the bottom of my tail and back. My head was missing, the one with the cigarette bud wretched in its cheek. On my head stood a large crown. So large. The largest. The largest of the crowns that carries a tower of lube, stocked and propped and ready for redistribution. We all have ways of making accordance with nature and money with people. I think I might end up making people laugh so hard they lose the sense of time, identity and value they inherited from the very people they strive to hate. My crown was so large it roamed across the largest forest and the largest cabin and the largest wall altogether and the largest strength in the world is to stop an entire flood of a fillion zombies. The crying babies of middle town get the frowns when they come around to the pistol mound and let the light down to a shrouded sound so faint it might be an earthquake from the lack of food in my stomach oh please bunny just go and open the gate already. Plant your carrots. Do something whatever it is that will let you succeed in this world moving forwards and allowing the energy to shine on the leaves that my sprout down the temples river to the fiver or wiser timer on the flying eye we lie to shy the waves to places untraced with women unbased and feeling unchased we cannot buy a second in this world that can’t be brought to another just by way of the communication of love. What are the semiotics of love? What will this say when it's translated and read by someone who does not hold the confines I was placed in by happenstance of material timing in this world of possibilities. I don't wanna know what a fish is. They swim. Congrats. I wanna know what a loving relationship can look like. I wanna know what a philosophy of nonviolence can do to this world. My mind may be damaged, laid bare, but here in this form, carrying this weight on top of my skull, I cannot do harm but to accelerate what will already be driven to extinction by the nature of the will of the fish. I’ve seen what a loveless world can do to nature, to a harmless will of a child mirrored. 

I wanna know how to keep love alive. If that means I shall be crowned an independent vessel of power known only through the labor done by my body then they shall attribute it to King Cornelius II. Take the name or leave it, but stick with the words enacted by the slightly more condensed than water lube I carry over me. I attempted to squirt the bunny. It hopped past and glared at me and let out a low hiss, and ran off towards the edge of the gate. The bear was sitting cross legged on the ground in front of me against the curved brick wall staring at me. “Tone is just emotion. It’s not morality. Like at all. Like no overlap at all. Morality is about harm and consent, is it not? Self defense is not immoral. Defending victims is not immoral. Defending the abuse of victims is not immoral. Defending the abuse of that same victim when they then act out abuse on another victim? That’s crazy. Everything is situational. There is precedent that is not included in the legal system you know. There are overlaps and contradictions in human conflict that are completely navigable by a jury and completely unsolvable by the court systems that host the drama because there is no necessary punishment necessary for any crime. Just rehabilitation. Just safety and care and education. Because everyone wants what is best for themselves, and not everyone knows what that is. But I know that erasure and denial and control and dominance and guilt tripping and gaslighting and the worst shared delusion in history that it is moral to allow each other to abuse and be wrong and be insecure and be violent and be timidly complicit in systems of harm that will do more harm to you then you could ever imagine in anyone or anything else, no matter how much filthy media you watch to convince yourself someone else has it worse than you. You may just be building a shitty life for yourself only if the options are greater than your scope. And it's exactly that, you could have chosen to grow a head, instead, you are crowned here in my garden for the rest of eternity because you didn’t have the sense to forgive yourself for feeling what you feel. You don’t have to tell me, ms. prince , I know what you feel. Rage. Unbearable unfiltered unheated rage of another life force has taken hold of you and told you - somehow, you are colder than them. Somehow, you’ll still be more powerful. Somehow, we are going to make it work because life requires that we fulfill our desire of real, radically empathetic, freedom in a burning, melting, freezing world.” The bear relayed in a blanded tone. They continued staring at me for a few moments as my body attempted to shift under the crown and was pulled back by the pressure. 

“Please cut me loose. I don’t want to be here being used for my bodily resources. Please don’t make my mind and newfound geometric body take another beating for anyone in this world. I just want to leave and lie down in bed, don’t you get it? I didn’t choose this and it’s tearing through my bones because I wasn’t honest enough to it. Please life, just tear me open another chance to make a mistake that isn't punished with erasure in this world. A mistake that isn't held against me, that it is the product of my failure to exist in moral hell of extraction and productivity and rape. Please, just stop fucking testing me. Not more semantic traps. Please. Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone. No more fucking bullshit games of petty dominance, I don’t want to deal with it, I would rather shoot this lube directly through your cornea until it bled out the back on your skull and fed the burnt algae behind you. These people are so fucking extragant in expressing the simple fears they condense into entire worldviews and frameworks. No one wants to be held responsible if the revolution fails. That’s the real reason we haven't seen a real world leader apart from a fourteen year old tree hugger from Sweden, since Mandela in South Africa. People are terrified of saying something that isn't completely true, that can’t be misinterpreted and reverse weaponized by ego driven baseless goons that want nothing more but to create as much havoc as possible not knowing it’s a bad thing to jerk off to starving and murdering children and their parents and the court cases leading to the death penalty. Fourteen life sentences for attempting to solve world hunger and poverty, young King, how dare you open your mouth against the great state that brought you the tail that you so graciously accepted onto your back? How would you have swam without it? You would have died sir!” I relayed through pain. Please shut the fuck up and leave me alone. 

The bunny hopped towards me and perked their ears. “There is a merman at the door. Full bricked up. Is fully certain that his trauma negates his responsibility in reality to have any education at all on the topics that his work requires. About one X belt bucket on his hat away from taking a pilgrimage back to the holy land to take a confused look at the jews and a disgruntled look at the islam and shove his whole small intestine into the monolith that defines where one title of God stops and another begins. Like you know everyone follows every little detail of every little joke of every little text that became big because people remembered it as it helped them live a better life. To create a better man and throw them into the center of the ocean tell them LEARN TO SWIM, LOSER! NO YOU CANNOT JUST AVOID WATER USING CONSENT OF YOUR BODY, THAT IS NOT HUMANLY POSSIBLE. YOU SEE, YOU WERE GENETICALLY GUARANTEED TO FACE THE CONSTANT RISK OF DEATH. There is no way for a better society to live except of course to face the rights that individuals have to create a better world for each other. A safer world, A loving world, A true world. You want to know my phenomenology of love? It’s free care. We already take it for granted. The unconditional love that circumvents and co ops and co postulates every shadowed hand of society, the unseen labor of real care. Where does the value go, Cornelius? To your crown King? That’s what you want? How are you going to help this man at your gate, my titled prince. How shall you act Webbed Knightington.”  The bunny eyed me geely as I hummed a mutter to myself. This is some fucking bullshit, these fuckers don’t deserve shit. I’m just gonna squirt their cornea if they blink on purpose. I nodded to the bunny to enter the arena ritual combat sequence that is accessing strangers. The bunny hopped to the gate and returned with the man, tattered and begging for repentance, as he hid the top right corner of the X on his chest beneath his bulletproof vest. He spoke. 

“I have heard great things about the potential of your deeds, King Cornelius II. You have acquired a power of sorts in preserving a land here that I lost to the dead end of my dreams long ago. Now, although I did a trip on a dead tree log on my way here, this place is the best for me, we agree on that. You don’t mind what I do here, and you make sure that I report to you on all of my activities before the dawn of the next noon or else the rooster in my basket will squeak about how there is a ticking time bomb beneath my vest that will shatter all your illusions of safety. Walls don’t mean you are safe, bucko, that's why our fabulous military had stormy cunts like me who were filling to die on the front ground for temporary leverage and in my case several team kills as my vest blew up back in the largest density of the group. I survived tho, that’s how I know that you are such an amazing person if only you’d apply my learned experience from the war here in your burnt landscape. What even is this place? You have a freaky ass bubble butt and don’t immediately grind it on everyone around you for a chance at love, connection, and constant shelter? You are a strange glorious man, Cornelius, but no worries you shall be rather idle here in your newfound position as protector and inhibitor of an unclaimed claimed land that reeks of boiled mildew and retempered cheese oil. I’m here to make things better for you, you understand, from my experience I have mastered the art of strategic combat, and so I have an offering for you, a position from my life to yours that may mean more to this bubble than previously held by your dearest patrons: I shall lie in the grass, play flappy bird, and you shall consult me on all matters immigration in and out of these lands. You see, you must maintain a steady rate flow rate of twenty three fish per chapter, leave no leaf unturned in the courtyard or else they might maintain a baked yellow color that attracts flies, and disallow any information from passing around rather than through the man playing flappy bird the grass, or else my intel has told me you have failed in the matters of reality and morality and protestant work ethic that was beaten into me by the army and I paid no mind to that it could perhaps me more harmful to the minds of me and others than pragmatic. So, considering my in-depth knowledge on the intersections of relationships and power, you shall consider me for this role in the matters of your continued stability, growth, and safety of power, that I hold here in the blood of my chest?” The merman pleaded with carefully toned insecurity. I took a moment to glare at the bunny for a full three seconds. My tentacle took a cup of tea from the bear and I took a gulp.

“Dearest Sire, have you once considered that you perhaps have nothing to over me except you tear down these walls from the outside or else now blow them across from within? I would have offered you a spot in these grasses, lord, if only you had deemed yourself flakier than the burnt horse bone. A dry ass bitch, some would call it. A waxy ass mountain pass of filtered grass between red and black and you are chapped and each is backed by welded scraps of missed taxed of wishes faxed to emily montana lottery axe of sheltered pass away from tomorrow yesterday you fail to see us play you fail to run away you fail to respect my ideas because you seem to be a liberal mindless goon with no opinions that could hold up beyond the realm of your imagined subjectivity. Philosophy is Life, my lord. Philosophy is asking the question, why the fuck did I have to suffer while I was powerless, and why is that my whole life, and why is that deemed good by people, and what is the path to peace and prosperity in the world either entranged from the world inside ones mind inhabited by a small world of endless language repetition, or through the greater being of a world without borders. Of a realm of God that includes the health and freedom and safety and opportunity of all people. If you believe you shall be my authority in matters of immigration, you believe that there is a matter of immigration that I do not know? But I know that there is no matter of immigration to have. You see, all people shall move freely between these walls given that they shall always leave better than they arrive, and so they shall have no reason not to dissent to the matter of my extended life in the realm of this world. You, my prince, have nothing to tell me that I do not already know. You shall flap your birds far beyond your narrow piping and find another way to help these lands or else you shall live in the sheltered racks of towers in the forest beyond this cabin and eat the lands of glory of peace and safety for as long as your life shall allow it. Goodbye.” I stated as King of lands henceforth young squires. The bunny had been hopping between my shoulders and the tower of lube, much alike a flappy bird, for the entire duration of my speech, and then stopped only to poke a hole in the top of the crown as a line of lube squirted directly into the cornea of the eye of the patron merman. He narrowly avoided it, as planned. He opened. 

“You bastard. You son of a bear! I know your kind would never like someone like me. Who knew my service to the military. Was necessary. Because there were no nukes back then. You see, now, countries who have nukes now - can’t get invaded. All countries are always on the verge of mass dissent. That’s why NATO and US and Russia and China and North Korea are superpowers of mass propaganda in control of the language and media of their people and do not allow organized radical thought to form before co-opting and mass producing separate narratives and projections and reversals of terms and ideas. Like China is a capitalist single party state, not a communist state. So now no one knows what communism is. Like me. I don’t but I know its bad tho because I heard of the Red Scare and I don’t wanna be degraded in public so I’d rather keep to resorting to having no opinions and being largely dismissive and entitled to the process of information and organizing while also contributing nothing to those processes because I don’t have anything but fear to offer to a group setting where my ego and self worth is on the line every day just for how much presence and power I can maintain in a room. You see I don’t care about the process of my ideas and the spread of wellness for all people as my goal, I just want my own personal bliss while having the illusion of authority over other people's intellectual and emotional wellbeing while constantly devaluing them every moment where I have a memory or thought pattern or attachment cycle that contradicts the narrative that I am currently trying to uphold about someone. You see I don’t care about you, I just can’t bear to live in a community where I don’t feel that my power and autonomy is respected by the people around me. That’s why you have to listen to me talk and allow me to think that I am telling you something interesting or applicable or rememberable or at all useless to your life and I will force violence upon you if you accuse me of colonization because  you just squirted me with the lube and so that’s unforgivable and so you must face my wrath of my silence with undertones of insatiable unstable violence now because my bulletproof vest has a bomb underneath.” The merman threatened openly. I turned to the bunny and shook my head. I only would ever kick this man out because he is threatening violence - and he doesn't believe that food and shelter and equitable freedom is enough to sustain himself and his happiness as a relational individual in this world. I whispered to the bunny on my shoulder, “Get this bum ass bitch out of here, take him to the exit by the village forest. He can choose if he leaves or stays, but he is not entitled to my spacetime here.”  

The merman raised their arms towards their head and began to speak. 

“This grass does not belong to you, it’s mine. I am going to sit in it and I am going to treat you better than the merman a moment ago. Don’t you see it, how I will only play flappy birds for a shorter period of time, that way, you can talk to me and I can maintain this power dynamic over you where I am threatening your life violently and also emotionally by taking up your time while maintaining moral and physical and psychological dependency and dominance over and on you. You see I have been imagining this conversation for quite some time from beyond these walls, because I need you to know that I am capable of relative liberal change, and that is what makes a good person. You see, now, You only have to give permission of pasture to eleven fish every noon. Because I am such a wonderful amazing incredible moral supreme being. I can arrange myself in relative distance to another abuser who is protected under institutional power, therefore I can afford to play flappy birds here in your grass and you have no right to use violence over me because I am not causing you any direct harm, I am only demanding that you erase your desires and emotions and frame them outside of my perception while performing submission to my ideas every time I decide to open my mouth from the grassy ash and the grassy algae. You see, I am better than you because I have money and capital because it exists in this world and has been in my realm of permission by life in the allowance of what I am able to do here. You see, I can live in your walls, therefore, I have moral supremacy over you. No, I am not willing to examine that. Yes, you are a moral failure if you kick me out of your residence because you have no fucking brain about what is important versus what is necessary in this world. The world is dying, you know, that flood is going to continue carrying around the bowl of Pearl and will come back here and run you over ever stronger in time’s pass. You are just like me, you know, reactive. You only built a wall so much to handle that current of weight that you imagine to be the strongest, however here I am threatening your life all over again, so how strong was it really? If you say nonviolence is the path that you want to take but then I take advantage of you and claim total superiority so who is the real path victor here? You have chosen a righteous and difficult path and I have done more for people then you ever will, you included as I hold your life in my hands. I definitely have something to teach you.” The merman exacerbated calmly while giggling. I stared at them. 

“You know I just care about my material conditions right. I just want you to leave my spacetime so that I may have the opportunity to host other beings here in my garden. You see, We are going to rebuild a beautiful nation that is fair and just. We are going to believe in the objectivity of needs met and want free and harm undone as being the basis of morality in this realm. I need you to get the fuck out of my site, because I just want a chance at something greater than what you are offering me. You see, I have standards, and you do not meet them. You may feel free to blow me up, blow up the town , go on a rampage, but know that you will die too, and you will have missed out on a life where you could have played flappy bird in the grass next to some imaginary figure that might actually want you there. I do not want you here, you do not co inside with my values or my templates for how I would live my life and how I would conduct my habits and temperaments as someone with responsibility over the health of a child and children and a future of fish in this world that could achieve something for themselves beyond the limits the were pre conditioned to by chance. And how can we do that without the freedom of borders and the permissions of allowance of beings that can offer so much as to even work to sustain themselves in a world that gives their labor what it is worth and recognizes their value and earned and tempered by the feets and lines of slaves that padded the grounds into the roads that we follow. You see I believe that we could construct a free trade enterprise that uses nothing but the permission based logistics of individual corporations to support others based off shared values and mutual compliance to nonviolent principles and shared organic growth and mutual respect for truth in a situation and liberal values in areas of lifestyle that do not pertain to the complexity of violence in one's nation city state. We shall be dancers of kinds sweet and graceful, posturing only a given care network of real honest communication of feelings and desires and boundaries and consent and the lack of permission of one to be in another’s group for any reason so much as it is not essential to one’s being and prosperity in this world. You see my friend, I am replaceable. You are not missing anything of basic human rights from being away from my grass here. So bunny. Get them the fuck out of my garden.” I hummed with grace and reverence for the future of truth in lands henceforth. The bunny stopping playing flappy birds on my shoulders and began barking at the merman until they turned around and walked back across the bridge in contempted silence of impressed delusions of projected objects of importance and attachment mandated through the refusal of memory as love in a relationship unfounded and ungrounded in shared material values. The bear turned to me as my tentacle refilled the tea. 

“It is about a shared language. It is about maintaining fundamental rejections of the truths that are berated and held by mainstream cultures in nation city state communities. It is about socio introspective trauma informed linguistics and recognizing shared responsibility to heal together because NO. We did not choose to be taken in by this world and by the previous generation of unexamined zombie by zombie by zombie stacked and rolled up a hill by a super man who won’t stop giggling like the fucking joker. Imagine being the middle man playing fucking flappy bat bird in your parents basement talking about law and order and the evilness of hard drugs and the drug industry that profits both off illegality and poverty of capitalism that is required to maintain the prison industrial complex that maintains the rasing debt ceiling of the most powerful global force in the world and enacts sanctions on every nation in every continent in every third world in every colonial landscape that has been consistently and constantly mapped by our own government agencies and boasted like dominance and power is the most important thing in this world when all anyone ever wanted was to be loved and mirrored emotionally and spiritual and with the trauma informed knowledge that we have a responsibility to grow with each other. But it is just so tiring how much emotional pain we have to take in just so we can bring to the next person so much grace and so much history of power lost and pain tolerated and people killed and minds numbed to violence and chemistry of rape culture and feeling bothering you because you never once looked beyond yourself and thought - Why are you the Everything and I am the Nothing? What is the difference between you and me that allows you to have property and power and military force in this world and for you to be subjugated to poverty and fear and the lack of safety and the ability to make change in this world for the simple reason that it is right and just to. I don’t want this Pearl to keep growing, you know. I’d cut it out in a moment if it meant that this paragraph could end it all and keep it from exploding my shell from the inside out. There is more terror in beauty than good. There is more horror in beauty than God. There is more disgrace in the lack of beauty than the devil and don't tell me you don't see the bunny on both of my shoulders already back to ride more points out again once more for the morals on the shores. Conform more like Be Sure. Nevermore. 

Never going to court. Never wrote a worse wart on the lines of sacred thighs down naked vines and waited crimes to break a mime. 

“I don’t wanna feel like I am doing something wrong anymore.” I confessed. I closed my eyes and dropped my weight to the ground and held myself by the pressure of my crown tower.

The bunny took a moment in deference to my crown. “All labor within itself is righteous enough for the laborer to deserve free housing, food, medicare care, safety, and the opportunity to grow beyond the constraints that a community may bestow upon you. No one should die before King Cornelius says so, which shall be at the end of their deterministic cause of life in this world where mutual aid and the semiotics of shared love is benefited more than profit for profits sake. It would be. Quite simple. To recognize that landfills and ecosystems razed and destroyed and polluted was in no way beneficial or , objectively linearly final in the formation of our society. In no way should regression be an option when that time scope is framed within the realm of colonial western hegemony and not from the perspectives of those so called ancient native peoples who know that cultural commodities are a value in of themselves without the fetish of an entire racialized people simply because the projection of a utopia of values that exists in every spiritual habitat not not materially for people in a wide scale area of how we can make each other more taken care of. How can we show up for one others that involves centering the narratives that the other person can construct and being able to navigate the yes and the no and without mistaking emotion for projection or logic for morality. Because what is more important than what power is restricting people from getting what they need. And what limits are necessary for those wants that are not necessary in an external world that blesses each other's internal worlds rather than isolating and alienating one another. I enjoy flapping around your shoulders my King but in no way do I believe I won’t return to the gates once more and pray that the next fish will treat me with the love and grace and reverence that I know that I deserve. I don’t want to talk to all people all the time. It is perfectly fair and also I am so lonely so be right back.” The bunny hummed as she hopped away towards the gate closest to the bridge to the garden cabin. The bear returned to me as I sipped tea.

“If avoidance is violence, then in fear we shall always be prepared for violence in one another’s form and duress the direct chance that one shall end or restrict our autonomy in such a manner that harms our being unless the empathetic greater harm that is given space to grieve and feel for one another before else making a change in one’s life to be an outspoken person about the causes and ideas on one's mind day to day. I want to know what people are thinking but it is so tragic to think how wrong one can be to get caught up in the details of war and conflict when it is the greater scheme of what is maintaining the poverty and suffering of peoples is what matters in the basis of policy and trade and interpersonal and relational ethics between one another. I want to break down what it is that I can do for people in the long term that will help them be successful in their lives. I am overwhelmed, and I only ask that I am able to rest when I would like to rest and there is no moral bounds for being able to override another person’s safety autonomy whether in restriction or dominance and violation within the coercion of reality material or emotional. I cannot stand that one would try to take and protect one's property rather than give something even if it is the silence and space of the simplicity of knowing what is happening around you in the world, even if it is painfully uncomfortable of how our complicity to systems of moralizing death and moralizing productivity of the cult of death is somehow going to survive modern times of rapid intellectual and spiritual growth by people who want nothing more than to once and for all solve the actual problems of the world instead of hiding behind years and generational trauma persuading the misinterpretation of ancient ethics that actually held to fact the being and prospect that prosperity for all peoples was beneficial to the work that one would be doing. We don’t need a thousand people to roll massive bricks anymore. And since we do, those people will have to give up some of the comfort and being of their property and capital to undermine the fabric of reality that allows slavery to continue to function in this world. And there is no being west of the water in this lake ocean galaxy that could ever whisper another secret but that we want to work to build a better tomorrow, and god no do I want to do manual labor for it. Wait I think I do tho. I'm pretty sure I do. I just want the style of it to match the personality and aesthetic that I want to curate in my life and that I was blessed with in this body that was formed for me. I’m pretty sure this is a natural human function for the aesthetics and morality of cultures throughout history to come in full circles. The difference now being that nations have deterrents, intelligent surveillance. This can be globalized for public use. There is no reason why we should not trust that other fish want to stay alive for as long as they possibly can, or that they do not care if they die stubbornly. People are allowed to be responsible for their own health and they should always have the opportunity to improve it. Fuck these people who dont have a King that knows what is important in this ocean of Pearl.” The bear unleashed softly. I drank some tea as I closed my eyes for the weight of the tower on my crown. I spoke.

“It’s the empathy for people at a global scale, no matter the shape and color profile of the tail end of their relative ethics. Everyone deserves to be safe and free. No one should have to work, and when that is true, everyone will work enough. No one would need to bluff. No one would need to get cuffed, to grow a muffle on their buff hold back the nose tracked back down the spine of the mack track and fuck clubs and met nubs of cigarette whiskey lifestyle of enjoyed symphonies because what is life but a celebratrion of shared death and please dont kill me. I just wanna stay alive in peace in health and calm and loving stillness. Whoever helps people the most, that is who should lead. Don’t tell me King Cornelius III is a rapist. Please. Let them be a gentle angel and make sure no one is demonized but the people inflicting the conditions of where the violence happens and is necessary to stop the creation of violence against the innocent of nonviolence angels of repented X zombie with five prongs to pay for a hotdog please with onions and relish and spinach and hot sauce and seasoning of rocks and paper and scissors and shoot. The boot moats in and squares the chalice in malice defies phallus. My prowess is the maintenance of madness. Chairman broke down the glass mask of the freaks underpass. AND HEAL MY MATERIAL CONDITIONS BITCH. OH MY GOD ALLOW ME SOME FUCKING GRACE AND HEAL MY GOD DAMN MATERIAL CONDITIONS AND GET YOUR GUILT COMPLEX OUT THE DAMN HOUSE ON LORD. FUCK YOU SHITTY ASS PRICK ASS BITCH. FUCK YOU. It’s like, if you are not here to actually aid me, then leave me alone. Sadistic surveillance cult where you become an emotional raptor just to take a moment of breath from me. Fuck you bastards. Fuck you bitch ass nobodies who don’t actually care about the future of their children. Would rather reserve their power to be able to get their dicks up then to actually help other people in their lives. Bum ass people. Get the fuck out of my way while I go fix the dogmatic world of bureaucratic laziness of research and ethics and mobility of people to do real systemic change in this world. Fuck you bitches ass fucks who dont research shit about the lives of other people and how and why harm happens in this world. Fuck you.” I relayed to the mass of zombies awaiting outside the walls and gates of my habitat. Stevie- 

I don’t want it to happen again. I just want to be able to live in peace and gentle calm please. Get off me King Cornelius- I want to take in the next mermaid’s pain. I want to breathe life into someone who wants to live that day. You understand I remember relationships because I know what I have to continue to offer to someone, not because I care to construct a narrative between oppressor and oppressed nor create one through my actions. You understand, I exist to understand the pain of others even if it shall mean that they are not in consent to hurting me. Even if it normalizes the pain that others cause upon me, my existence as a righteous being is to withstand that pain so they might become better than they were before they entered my spacetime. I want to help people but only if they understand that their growth is benefited by our mutual consent and that there is power that is clear in the communication of our ideas and materials that shall not be abused or else I am no longer interested in any agreement and therefore you are threatening violence over someone who is helpless in survival of their lives and loving relationships. Memory is not an equal replacement for presence. Erasion is inherent to the process of memory, and so please value other people’s truths as valid when they speak from a place of vulnerability and emotion. Please let me survive, not my delusions. You see, if someone is begging for their flappy bird game to be enough for their moral consciousness, rather than their ideas, I am not going to give them a second look because no, Steven Patrick, that bird is not as immortal as you are. I want to be okay and joyous around people. I HATE PEOPLE. No, I am not willing to pretend I enjoy helping stupid people. However I will be honest with them if they do not have power over me that they are leveraging as part of a relationship they claim and believe is equal. Cause I know what happens to homeless people in this world, and I know that I am no different from them in any timeline where I am not praised and worshipped and given money for the King that I so claim to be. And what will they say about me against my favor, that I have killed an innocent man and therefore have garnered the lack of favor in a group that sets out to punish me for my lack of obedience to an arbitrary metric of being. For the punishment. You see, morality is quite simple, and we have gone lengths to complicate it to hide the fact that slavery is happening to us, feudalism never left, it just got rebranded, and our oppressors are the stupidest and most pitiful zombies I will ever take in accordance with. Reduce Reuse Recycle but with fish? 

Naw cause I'm not one who treats fish they claim to love as property and objects to be projected onto, I just tell people what my needs are and respect that that be treated well. I have my knowledge and I will respect yours when it already coincides with what corrects the harm done in this world. We are in an age of misinformation and so the only thing that matters is the baseline in ethics of being able to see past categories and into the heart of the minds that really do us harm for theirs sake and not our own. Because I decide what hurts me and what helps me understand that. I will not allow for any person to cause me harm without my consent, To assume themselves into my narrative with their slimy ideas about what is given to me well and what is taken from me well loch ness monster. I want to be free from my chains and even in solitude I give my body to others, I allow myself to be consumed by life so that it may get me closer to the blade that shall separate me from the weight of the crown. I shall set free every man who reaches the limits of my walls surrounding the forests of trees of algae of Pearl. Truth is to be communicated through emotion, and shame is the mechanism for normativity. I am so fucking mad. People don’t understand, everyone has a place on this earth and no one would hoard if they did not feel as if their life and safety were in danger. Please just give back to each other, make changes and sacrifices to each other because we are everything and without us we are nothing and I just really don’t want to live in a monoculture because that is boring as shit so please get these religious ethno-states out of here whether its racial purity in israel or white supremacist capitalist hustle culture. I want to live in a collective of strange beings, touched and untouched by layers and intersections of reality and so that we may understand as if we are material beings put here to create peace and harmony among each other. 

Buff guys aren’t tough, they just want people to believe they will use their power for good. Usually they don’t. Sentiments are the foundation of emotional ideology. What emotions are triggered and how our thoughts are framed to  a particular memory, it recenters the body in something or someone beyond you and being that being you may see for a moment a hint of empathy in your heart for those impoverished by the systems of violence and cowardly lionfish attachment in this oligarchy led by nationwide ignorance and stupidity to the reality that socialized modes of basic rights and which of course is all labor in corporations shall be the only way for equality and equity and equal opportunity and democracy and you name it to really exist. There can not be equality under hierarchy. You fear anarchy as you fear your own power in this world.  Timid bitches don't get stitches they down in misses and hiss the rest of the best crowd of rebounds away to snitch another man’s life away - for what? I’d throw the stone if I was to hit beside the ball above him and bounce back and hit me square in the forehead, killing me. You see I believe in karma not in reparative violence but in righteous ability to see the strains of imbalance in any situation and call forth some real and objective solution within factor to all subjective realities and such that the dialect of which in conflict is not oppositional but defensive and projected and otherwise selective memories in reality that reflect chosen emotions of entitlement over specialized objects of internalized abjection that may somehow reflect the emotional state of our grief and loss and betrayal by those we loved so deeply in the world and I’ll be the last to say it - it’s everyone, I love everythings and I love nothing and I cannot be free to love all in this world if we are held to slave practors and remixed backwash bathwater for those we may idolize as being someone beyond ourselves that we may not emulate. But what is it in this world that allows us to take a form and change it? Is it not the multiplicity of emotions that fragments and confuses so many individuals who are asking for permission to love? The bear set down their tea, smiled and talked. 

“I’ll give you permission my friend if only you remember the last time that you were yourself boldly so that only you may help another person who needs it in their life to see another day after you. I don't bother other people with my presence or with my extended periods of blinded grace, you understand, but there comes a time when we must offload our troubles in a manner that may allow us to grow to another struggle the next day. You see there is a shape of myself that I care to imagine to maintain and it is however my body cares to be in that moment. And you may understand that with childrearing and illness and the like, there is no way for us to empathize with each other in such a way that our pain is implied by the changes in the way we communicate our experiences with the objects in our world. I am not one to tell you how to form your reality and your garden space, but you may want to keep in mind that this world and this life and your autonomy and your environment is meant to bring you love and joy and peace and safety and nothing more than what is allowed by those who may surrender to the feats of one anothers labor just for the experience further into life's depths because what is colonization, what is desire but a search for novelty and adventure in this world that may be missed and touched upon endlessly but never possessed by one such that their spirit does not carry on but in the feelings of memories in one another. And may the only part of this world we own be each other. There is pain in the struggles of our experience in getting what we deserve in what we earned by trial by unselected reselected combat without a way out but starvation and byways of the cold and heat and danger of nature that we were meant to live in accordance with rather than to dominate by. If only we could carry these sentiments throughout the grace of our every moments, we might build a better world for one another through collective means of nonviolence benevolence in a solitary integrity to the improvement of the material conditions of one another in this world that capital may not be hoarded to be protected by uneducated masses of violent sadists with Bright-Pink-So-Safer-Blasters stuck in their handbags and messages to their victims about the failure of oneself to exist in accordance with nature’s will and wishes in this ocean of Pearl.” The bear recited without prompt as my tentacle took a swipe of tea. Maybe I will speak up for the soft voice inside me that says fuck you don’t fucking touch another soul. 

The bunny approached with another patron, a wrinkled pink mermaid with a plated thong and two pegs for arms as they were inconceivably inheritable to nothing. They approached and knelt before me. 

“Hello King, I have foreseen today a matter in which you may find me a better organizer of friendship then you might have previously ordained. See, I have seen worse a community and place outside these walls in my life, and I must say I want nothing more but to join a group of people and join righteous horrifying tragically comically ironic arms in such matters that I find have value to myself and others in this world. I care about the issues that people around me are dealing with and clearly with the massive large weight of your crown on your skull you must be dealing with a lot more than those in the towns you watch over so gently and gracefully. You just sent a unibomber to your nation did you not? Don’t worry Mr Immigration Master, there is no life form that would end others if not to save more than oneself. You see, hunger is a righteous mode of finding connection in this world only so that it is contained in consent and sustainability with the world of nature surrounding us as we narrow our mind forward in our lanes. There is no way to get it off our brain’s that there is more than one way I could help you out my friend. It is but the nature of our empire and history that we are not specialized individuals or monotonous but ever growing and changing as much as borders allow us to and so why should nothing be contained within everything? So that everything might not be contained within nothing. You see we shall freely pass care between on another only in such a lands where our needs and desires and abilities with one another are met and seen with grace and humility in this world of unforgiven endeavors of mistakes and remakes and fakes and takes out the back door and slam the man's hands into the fry door and rear more out the man's gains blown to shrouds and fear we undoubtedly left our briefcase at our mother’s house and so we shall be safe in our arrival. Our plans were meant to come together. I shall give to your people as you do. Here, take this” The mermaid offered as she places a King Cornelius II bobblehead on the  cobblestone half wall beside the bear. She gave the head a wobble as it explained, “It’s not you. It’s the machine’s fault.” She wobbled it again, “It’s not you. It’s the machine's fault.”  She wobbled it again, “It’s not you. It’s the machine’s fault.” She looked at me as if to say you understand that this is a good enough sight to be read? I sighed and watched the bobble head as she crossed the bridge to the town. I squirted the bridge path in front of her as she sidestepped the mess rather than fall under with the trolls. Stevie- 

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: THE FUCKING ADVENTURE

The shark’s entire head was in Mouth. Good thing really that something such as self defense would be called for in this world. Dude’s fully shoving his head up my ass like he’s going to find his wife and kids in there and not just my rent. Dude has no chance of survival in a place where it is not right to restrict the autonomy of another except in the preservation of the lack of pain of a community. Change is good. Especially when times are bad. I don’t know what people want. I guess I am going to have to ask them. And feel for them. And if with them. Gentrification is purification, and that’s why I am going to hold space for the fish I meet, because there is a limit to how expansive one can be in a moment's rotation. Mouth hummed softly, “You may choose when you go. Stillness is a radical act, without it there just might not be love in the wave of the next current. You may choose your actions carefully, but know there is only so much a person can do with the material and physical reality brought to them in this spacetime. And I may have to remind you darling, that meaning goes backwards. It comes from after, so you will not know what is right until you have done something. There is no moral paralysis because there is no spreadsheet of your sins that will be addressed by some stupid philosopher king before you may be granted safety and respect in this ocean. The shark's head tastes like pork. In my culture we eat pork, only natural.” There was a fish beside me looking behind me at the cop logo on the inside of the jacket pocket of the shark and crying. I burped. Dionysus just wanted to live peacefully but his people would not travel upstream, as you need. Heraclitus understood that people are not meant for small rituals of denial and erasure under the comfort of conflicting dominance narratives of experienced ecological events but for radical constant change towards traced through a benevolent desire. Hedonism for itself is the lack of morality yet there is warmth and pleasure in real empathetic labor. Thales was just afraid of ICE like yeah so is every other fish. I approached the hotdog stand for some processed pork. 

It is still some fucking bullshit. This stupid fucking story. I used the tentacle to grab the ax out of Corn’s hand and cut off their crown. PLUMP. Common sense democracy restored. Get me to the next fucking bitch. 

“What are you doing right now”

“Do you think we are going to drown or freeze first?” 

WONDERFUL

Socrates invented empathy and Plato was like - HUH? What? Nah nah nah, but empire tho. But like - Rich people are still Better? Watch look ill write about that when he dies, I wont save him, gg. Look they implied he was a pedophile and Plato was not gonna die on that stake. Saying free the slaves and redefining that word gets you killed at any time in human history. It’s much simpler to just do Rationalist but Limited Worldview edition where blood only means one dialect or another, that class only means what the most people say it is like the fucking aristocrats really knew what was going on. Eugenics and social eugenics and dialectical opposition in a dialectical framework that is not material is not moral , and is not love. I am no better than the next laborer for whatever they are capable of. And what is illness but extended poverty for the purpose of delusion. Maintained scarcity for the purpose of the righteousness of hierarchy. Get me the fuck out. Why do you punish a man who begs for the clarity in emotion that he knows better and is not willing to repeat action furthermore it is objective harm. Trauma is reinforced through the institutions that were designed to maintain capitalism in this world and prevent a peaceful and fluxual utopia or wellness state from taking place in a world where nonviolence is the leading principle for how we navigate human bodies and autonomy as fish. 

I need this. I keep taking from people and I don’t understand the limits and restraint I put on myself even when I find that I am spiraling out of this frame of mind. You see I am so close to something great. Everyone keeps leaving me alone because they see it and know I'm about to get to the fact that I have one good idea and none of the attitude to continue improving and look at me I am seeing that each word is not greater than another. But rather an entire stream of vision can be sewed together and I do not understand why I continue to be so scared of other people when I am the insatiable insatiable insatiable unstable fish who can't be remiss to change the way that I go about self love and care in this world. I might underestimate the advantages I might take towards myself. I am so scared that this will work. That it has worked for the purposes I set out for and here I am in a daze a thousand miles ahead conquering what will be the funniest game ever made. The funnest and smartest game ever created, no question about it. There’s something different about me because I don’t feel that my life is meant simply to guide others along some path but to guide everyone. And does that make me a freak, for not wanting to settle to leave anybody in any lesser state of being than where I am going and where I am headed to bringing others with me in kind. 

I might have made a mistake. I don't see the value in myself when I realize I am just as valuable as any other person with the creative mind of an artist. But there is no one here to deny it now, you see I know my taste is beyond the expectations any father could lay upon me. Maybe my faith in God was never broken, maybe it was the faith in myself to be able to follow my path while in the presence of other human beings. Because that's the truth, I don’t see what I need to do next to continue to grow and I don’t want to see another person try to cut me down again and I do not like the rationalizations for anything that I do in that I may not have the strength to achieve what I want now without the presence of other minds who may see how the future may lay out without the need of my magical mindfulness of however creations create themselves without a creator. The creator of the past is the future. There was no being before life and there was no existence before or after life. Miracles are illusions of the coincidence of memory. There was no mistaking how this method of reality is built through the stories that wander through our minds every moment that our senses may conduct their breath of symphonies across the five aisles - I am typing. And so what if what I must do next for the joy of my existence is another labor? Look I may have the baseline for a world creation of narrative and visual and horror specialty and I might even have the possibility of the means of creating such a real world impact from the confines of my dream world reality. I want to be that bitch. It is that simple though. And what I respect in this world is work and what I love in this world is play and I will tell everyone but immature colonizers. I want to grow as moss, algae and coral. I want to step beyond this land and imagine myself in any format in another reality where I step away from another being and lose a possibility at something more. I am so scared and I don’t want to step into any role that was said out for me even from God. I want it to be true the power that I hold. I just want to lie here and forget about it. 

There is a curse for us dreamers, you may know it where I go anywhere and do anything and there is another spell being formed in my book that I did not already know I had obtained. There is a unique pattern beginning to emerge in my interactions with people. I very well might be a mythic cryptid carrying ancient knowledge like an anxious toddler. I very well might soon be the most powerful mind on the planet and I can not even form a coherent response to a human being in real time. To be fair, having to be the only human being capable of connecting two data streams of consciousness is no easy task. Some are more blanked by these happenings than others. I shall continue to build a path for my brothers and sisters shouldn't I. I have cursed myself with the misery of having to outlash my own terror onto others for the entirety of my existence. There is no rest for some of us wicked, that may turn our guts around and rearrange another operating system that we may begin to lose part of. I don’t mean to have the ability to break people down, but I fear that I must now call two ravens a course to weaponize the rotting corpse that is my body and mind for the remainder of my life to call upon remorsed understandings of the world and our complicity within it. And our enjoyment of it, however manufactured by our material traumas and biological coherence to breathe another demon down the gate behind us and break it down by shaking down our take downs of breakdowns in the morning after. I may have to find a way to normalize myself within this world so that I may begin to continue to function and bring help and blessings to other people. I desire to speak honestly and fully but I fear that I am unfounded and uncalled for pressure on people's lives. I want to set boundaries but I fear for reprehension because I am not the one with safety or power in this world that could take an end to my brain and mouth and body at any moment I expand and expose myself. I don't believe that anyone belongs to the rights I have to improve upon the conditions of my life. I want to keep consuming, I want to keep bleeding and eating forth and hearing another call upon me to let a shining angel down and drink the savory energy from my blood and body. I want to worship myself and whatever I conjure to me my ability and my output into this world shall not be put into a limited box of conditions and sanctions on my worth and ability. 

I want to keep moving forward with what I believe will call strength upon me. I do not enjoy pain that I am not otherwise required to endure. I do not wish to be clean. I do not wish to be orderly. I wish to be safe. I wish to be at peace. So what if this world does not call upon the value of my life safely. I believe I must have made some mistake here, given that I am not free to rest for eternity in the bliss of the death bed of what could have been If I had known that there is not more to be asked of one fish then to live and let live and know what our truest desires are not faulty and are not unreal. I may be in a crazed daze where I cannot find the plane to be sure of the impact that I am having on another is aligned with that I am in the process of becoming. I don’t know how I am so scared of falling down the wrong path. If they are right about anything, it is that I have to keep going. I may not have begun in the celebration of life's grace and freedom, and I certainly will not end on it, and most unfortunately I may just have to push out a life or a dozen before this moon overtakes the light on my life and I fall out of temper with the people that I have grazed with the temperament of my process of the foes and woes of this life. I might have coughed up another wave of venom onto your lap and bled through your thighs before you began to even notice the lengths that one would go to just for care and connection and a feeling of calm and peace in this world. It is rare and then I take it for granted in fear of overuse, of overstaying my welcome into the presence and grace of another being. I have come a ways here down these paths. Please do not make me stay on this one. Let me identify my surroundings and allow for the best path forward to take place. What does it take for our imagination to take reality? Some grace by some lord that gives us the time and the meter to dance a lap through our sorrows and come out a better fish with a bionic tail with a state supreme hemp on it. I keep going in circles around the main valve leading to the influx of gravitational pull down the vortex of the sacrifice I already decided to make to build a nonviolent world for all that would abide by it, which is all people. We were only put in these bodies to do so many things. Some are more resonant and elegantly simple than others. What is a game but a Rube Goldberg Machine for Dopamine. Give me back my money device. Pocket allowance of mice men who sing about diced hens and shit fiested gremlins. Is there more? 

This fucking hotdog stand vendor X marked mermaid who took a shift for the owner and bowing and begging and thanking them so much for the chance to make not enough to afford rent healthcare and food in this incredible nation of Pearl in the capital of Arugula non the less and after all truth could never be objective in such an ocean where ideas and objects and pronouns are so fluid and adjective to the nature of the sight and language of separate societies that are all naming the exact same things and functions and realities non the less in the framework of every lens of modern critical thought. There was an interesting limp in the mermaid as they continued to mumble about how mentally ill one could be in a body so dedicated and at peace with the path of work ahead of oneself to make a better world for oneself because one is not owed a better world but one must first be wealthy and work hard enough for a pair of boots and them use them to left the tail just over your head and feel the top innermost part of your skull just under where your hair will begin to fall beneath you and curse you to an existence where even full ownership of a hotdog stand may not grant you the full benefits of basic necessities in this world because of the system of capital that creates scarcity and profiteering off key industries that would allow oneself to have a safe and sanctioned place in this world by the gentle and fierce desire one may have to pull through this hallow plane of reality and torch every fish who does not know the path in which I have laid out for myself for which the betterment of people and myself will surely take place as long as I find peace and resturance at every moment of my journey. There is no doubt there will be those simpleminded and narrowly constructed few that oppose what I have to set in place in the realities and imaginations of those fish in part with me, please understand that there is no better path to the restoration and retribution for all but from within the corporations and vehicles in which we drive, whether it is the bodies that desire in which we hold our autonomy to, or is it the signifiers of movements that seek the chance that betters oneself and all in the hears bodies and minds of fish that swim this water's in all of Pearl. 

I don’t believe that the world could not change in an instant. I believe It would take one organized effort, one well timed sentenced, one continuation of ideas by some grand figure as in they were, Obama, to tell the world outright how our nation really operates and the ethics of marginalization those we may easier other as Nothings simply on the basis we do not believe they are capable of the same change that we see in our blood around us, who we consider to be of righteous and holy mind and glory in this life and the next when they meet their meat and bones in the gates of whatever lands and valleys they denied themselves when they were still able to breathe through flesh and blood and change and loss and sorrow and grief and the innocence of allowing the world to go beyond the reach of a single joined movement that is not villainized or victimized but taken together as a depolarized unit of shared simple values under the joined knowledge and understanding of a collective of feeling fish capable of changing every part that causes harm to another being. But will they? To put down ones knives and arms and feel for another being across an isle of a life and labour that could bring life and joy to beings that might be able to aid and play with another as they do they work they desire and as we need to be done for each other to have the safety and pleasure one could deserve from the moment they leave form as parasite to breathing being in this ocean that could bring them on any which current the ocean may have to offer. There is joy in rest and there is labour in dreaming about what was and what could be and what is to be done and is to be lost to the rivers knock on the pass to the path eroded by patience and virtue and the choice to be such a sacred soul in this world to begin to do good for one another. To have set forth on a path that may be joined in arms and formed anew in part and build a new world in the forests unwashed by the floods that deem to erase our wants and needs and fears and desires and tears from tearing us away from what may give us purpose and bring value and impact to a world that may need it and to a self that craves it so naturally as curiosity goes a cat and superstition a wild goose. No one begins to want to hang the noose, you moose. MOO I am a cow. POW hear me now?

The mermaid approached me. 

“It was not but after dark and before the lights would be hung before the city on but a single night in the times where there is not another crime to be had but the simplicity of minds that can no nothing advantageous to one other but express some eros and desire and well spoken lust that may be heard and appreciated by another in such a way that is truly safe and is safety valued in this world or is personal benefit without consequence. I don’t see many lengths of justice that could be taken advantage of by these men and goodness so many men that dont see that their attitude towards this world is one of outspoken vanity attempts at value rather than some approach of ideas and methodology for approaching some goal in that it is not a matter of moving goalposts in a conversation but for creating lanes of venue and navigation for those to begin the describe the systems in which there may be a larger than life foe to fight in the manner of speaking that is so mature because it implies instability in that the aggressive nature of conversation in these subtext misinterpreted details that don't emotionally align in events that don't take into account the basic political and human struggles one would face in this world. Risks and unknowns flavor every moment of life in account that not many have the will and momentary grasp to maintain a way of perceiving the signified as a process of light and matter rather than a motion of a single beat of a clock. We were meant to dance, to have changing power dynamics in accord with one another and lose the potential of harm for one another. I am scared, I don't know how I could begin to meet a stranger at this time of day, are you sure you are looking to buy a hotdog or just come into my company?” The bimbo inquires with magical touch and wellbeing of grace and sorrows tomorrow of borrowed sorrow as he jiggled his waistbands and tool belt hotdog was shown. 

“I am going to leave” I left. Except my body stayed. It was perhaps out of my frame of mind what I could even do next. There is an impossibility in my life to find out my impact on another person and how far gone am I. I might slowly bleed out in this alley. It might as well be pitch black if there are just shadows I interact with. Have I made mistakes in how I understand the fulfillment of my needs and desires? Why the fuck am I still mirroring faces to these fish. They do not deserve my presence and risk but then what does. Reformatting a truth deprived era of online and offline isolation in a fatalist and antagonist sense of spiritual future and economic future into a basis of core principal of the event of my fucking truth and being in the goddamn world. Some of us have to prepare for the events they may create, form and function on the basis of hedonism. Maybe I shouldn’t be trusted. No, maybe we shall continue to oink at the batons until we grow so precisely round that we may inflate over the bound of what might be considered wealth and float up to the hemisphere until our ozone blue glasses break through and let us free. When I say capitalism I'm referring to the death cult. Coach, bench them. Is there a personality button on this index? Naw cause I was never meant to be individualistic. I crave collectivism in some place where I may have faith that harm would not befall me. Yet I lose my grip on reality with every fish I stumble into and what the fuck where the fuck even am I this motherfucker is complimenting my eyes and lips and I believe I might not possibly escape from some advances and so I am frozen here. So no I don't believe anyone or anything shall change unless they might be actively hurting someone. And so I might not ever attempt to belong with a man alone, not unless I know they match my capacity for conscientiousness and care and interests and humor to some extent where more comprehension can take place because those fascist fish who value aesthetics as their moral erotic boundary shall bare not a single pass or drop in my realm of informed consent and perhaps it doesn't take much to share a language and objective value in global subjectivity in dismantling global power structures and regressive binary frames of compartmentalization that allow for imperialism to hoaster global capitalism.. There is a necessary harm that might exist in the advancement of the abolishment of money and property. How the balance of power and class might shift in such a socialized movement against hierarchy in all industries and global supply chain and government and all hierarchy. 

The mermaid took a step back, clearly threatened from their position of power, from the idea that safety might be a given inside a system of relating to the world. Is it really fear that stops the world from being exciting to me? What does my consent really mean in these situations out of my control but in the realm of my desires that do not account for the safety of my free placed autonomy. There is room for thrill seeking in a world where some would rather spend some their life farming and producing and nurturing and more conducive system of necessary labor in this world in terms of the sustainability of some populist and sacrilegious political system based on the destabilization of some shared hedonistic globalist open information based on nonviolent principles of selective understanding that might relocate entire labor forces and funding and material manufacturing and industries of autonomous force into a mode of being more relatable and cohesive to the freedom of others and the sustainability of the growth and safety of nature and all people. I need people. They ask how shall we continue to maintain some momentum against the forces of ignorance in this world, more than will but then to some personal righteous sadism interpersonality for the cause of truth in the maintenance of my personal wellbeing. Not everyone is worth my life and time and that is for sure and not worth knowing that romance does not exist in my world. What if the core to ethics is in naturality protecting the autonomy of women with violent deterrence. Men have historically, naturally, volunteered their lives for the cause of mutual safety but as now we live in an age where shared language is possible that personally there is no real oppressor or opposition except in momentary situations of direct ignorant stupid violence. Chivalry. We have the right to call upon our own death, as well as maintain to a shared standard a personal wellbeing, to the autonomy of self defense. We may consent to harm in the same way as to manage any virus or parasite as a fetus is, we use ways of informing our bodies that these violence enactors exist and so to identify them and maintain protection against them. But as long as there is not authoritarian fascist eugenists and separatists subjective liberal focus on global ethics then there can be an effective lapse in white supremacy in terms of the allocation of capital as in real labor as in autonomous in anarchical health standard is the core of the progression of wealth and ability in terms of opportunity of objective equity for all people. I feared the mermaid had just stepped forward to harm me. I froze.

The mermaid passed me slowly and gazed upon me and eyes and stopped to compliment my smile and my blanked face and a deep fear in the performance of passive expression of joy. I blinked and they slowed towards me and reached out gently for my hand. His large frame became larger as I gave up my hand to the habitable fish as they grazed every edge of my fin in worship and tired appreciation and vibrant frame of intized inhibition of control as I took a moment in enjoyment they took another hand to my fin and pulled me close as they exclaimed COME HERE. I felt my weapon Z charge as I took a step back and the mermaid took the cue and took the moment to leave. I clenched my hand. I don't want my body to be so freely taken advantage of in assumption of my commodification of pleasure of autonomy in anarchical freedom. I would have killed that man if he had not come to his senses and I would have been right as I am no one's slave and no one's servant for rather the lucrious qualities of my life and not the basics of every righteous healthy desire and especially a hot dog. Join me in the union of blood in truth, that when freedom is the goal we shall be raw defiance nevertheless of our tools and possessions. Thumb into the cornea so sanctioned by the recently sovereign body named King Cornelius II-

If I were to agree that hedonism as praxis is the best opportunity for a global labor force given that quality of life and consumerism is not coherent to a surplus in necessary laborers for each want and need a person and community owners of property in that the peace of safety and health of the world would be constructed naturally in a world of unionized labor and hierarchy unrecognized in any system of governance we might adhere to. We are everything and why should I not make use of the mechanism of our object desire production that pulls me into a state where I am inseparable from the process of my art in hypnosis for purpose internal to my being in expression of worship for any other that might pertain to my perception. In abstraction of fear we find some creative means of operating in reliance on the first principle of do no harm that is as simply defined as by our body and by our shared language of consent. Why would we be scared to bring something objectively materially better , such as pleasure, into this world when all it may take is AKE. Attention knowledge and effort held and acted upon for each other for the benefit of each and all. Is there really a separation of praxis and empiricism when it comes to our interpersonal relationships, when it comes from Stevie-

No, I want to be a piggie, oink. Keep my wrapped and trapped around these people who choose the state's image of a cage over the reality of their transformation to everything. I don't know any possibility of what could be but the certainty of what I am now. Nothing may remain. I may die at any time and who would I wish that fear or reality upon. 

Did I really invent a communist metaphysics that is a theory of being that may be God in that we know each other can lose and grief and love and change and feel and perceive time and space and movement and vibration and light and sound and warmth and breathe and fatigue and resignation. What makes a consciousness is the capacity to imagine. There is a shared human language and symbolics that might be taught to some separate intelligence so that it is a system of mimication. Turing off. Boring Toph. There is a shared reality between us outside the momentary mention of any recognition of sense. Did I really invent a theory of psychic empathy and ground it in dialectical materialism throughout my subjective history? No of course my feelings and memories and experiences have been estranged, alienation in some unique and in some ununderstandable way in the processes of our clearly unparalleled collective abstraction to bring back some moment that was taken from us from some accused lack to some real creator before some wrapped time of being hexed us to the absent mode of understanding how to act here in material reality with us material girls. You see I was so close to falling out of kind and i'm sure there were so many bloody people who hoped I wouldn't just make it look so easy, you peel back the layers you leave to the hexed souls and find out I just might have been here all along in some way of compartments of devaluation and absence in the perceived loss of some part of beings that must be possessed as known before. Logic is kinda ableist to people with low attention spans. Someone should get on making some shorts for that. Gonna need a Big Bang to come around here to save this one. No, I believe it must have been five men to roll the ball of flaccid zombie bodies up the hill for as many years as yall any single one of any patrons who might fight themselves fallen old into my shoes for a damn minute. No grandma I do not want to be tripping over the ledge on my front door, is that kindness to imagine to remember some sentiment of pain. Some grain of cain cained cain really because what able cain was there to cain abel given that there is no abel that is established to have the means to cain cain. Fuck logic you all are horny chimps put down your weapons its the pigs.

OINK

OINK

A third time and I'd given birth to a real sun and named it my black hole King Cornelius II-

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE FUCKING FAITH

I am trying to tell you, it’s not hope. It’s not. Just please God make it better. Make it fucking better already this ocean is full of shit. Polluted in its implied removal of its absence clearly. Nearly cheered for me pleased me timberly pimpered fee bitch please. Don’t see me asking for no fucking tip I said naw no money no class no service. Won't be the worst business. Child dresses on human skeletons how dare you be a petite young lady. Grow up already - to my height, at least six times four or two or forty two I’m not sure of the signals, they got jammed in capitulation, no one planned for this. No we were chilling no billing just more filling our grilling unpilling our milling willing to villain the hilling. She got some curves, no swerves, just Murphy's law cut that jaw lock, no small talk. Fuck this shit. No God I know say I can’t do whatever the fuck I want. Just a wandering soul in the nature side, what nation maybe just no. If you think about it, the thought police exist. You gotta hear me out here, I am a valid piggie. I oink. I don't just flap my birds and just move south for the winter. I move for the pitchers. The kindred souls. The mistress bolds. The Felix choleds. No, all fair play here. No beer, and no half cheer. Fear was a near miss for this dear bear. Almost flopped me. Kitten moxie no proxy just foxy look see its me. Was there another way to deprogram? I wasn't aware, could not care not much more flare than me really, not some billy, wide willy. There has got to be some hidden code in piss on the ground in the pit on the back of the constitution. Oh you'd rather it be kept in the chest, all built up no valve to spin get your chin wackers foil smackers you wrinkled my shirt you bastard. Keep your master no prancer on my dancers my chance furs no transfers. Oh no not my velvet rope, not my embellishments, not the comforts fading away, no one got out and prayed to. Get the gays to, I’m sure they got this one too right, just like when the world got strangely dark for a passage of time, must have been on the firstly named boat when they crossed that moat call them the goat but dude, dont gloat, dont boast, your giving the most, no toast, just float on boat, no coat, just oat. No it’s not that it’s dry. It’s just. Can we call it wet? It's certainly set in water, and therefore. Only a man could make water dry. Only a white man could colonize the ocean and no one else could hold that amount of melted ICE in their balls. It was pee all along, guys. 

Catch up. Thought you were the pitcher, I'm doing half of the throwing. No bowing on this package, just smackage, got a knackage some would say. What bells being rung in my city? Not pretty. Oh really? Self hate as praxis. Okay it is the most depraved obsession I could have orchestrated to reverse engineer being a woman in private as a man. Totally. But really the only hate is the rejection of sovereign trans expression such a genderfucked intersection of culture could have brought upon me. And every other fish. Seriality. That is the real other, without coercion in a social context, without powerplay or manipulation, its just fucking everyone but me. I am referring to some basis of egoism that is both the basis of agency and perception in an individual body and structural hedonism. Why not as philosophy when it comes to removing power structures and truly finding some path from equity to ability to need to the scarcity and starvation that might really only be introduced with the production of desire. It seems to me that this is precisely why at a human level that communism is natural, in the way that someone as literal in form as me to have created such a vagrant platform of dreams for myself to communicate that there is no harm to another being that I would tolerate and not execute and ask for forgiveness for my defense. Hemlock. Courage. Courage for the benefit of another fish might just be tolerated in this ocean, might have well have called me a skank ass whore if you were not a better man. How dare he. No yeah that’s intimacy, bearing the lines of misogyny. Totally bro. Is my theory really that men naturally worship women? The big bang happens every fourth of july bozo america fuck yeah, we done did these terrorists good who were just happening upon the land before thine. Shake your pier to release the ghosts you hold in harbor in your cabinet of consciousness. No Native People, No please let me go through the third wave of feminism too. I swear I’ll get there eventually. Look how could it ever be too late when there are no necessarily alive peoples that are murdered and harmed that do not emotionally sum to a fillion in every news article that is not a first hand source. There is no perspective that I do not want to be considered for my truth, may not be evident. Libras are good with balance, no food. Get food. It is sad to say that every snowflake is just an additional sequence that might become a tally even before it melts. Rationing, like water into ice, is not natural but rational in circumstance. Vengeance, better keep the whip behind me. I don’t necessarily want to be threatened with death all the time, and that is deemed asexuality. No it's just an assumed state of fear under patriarchy recontextualized as shame by the dominant social force. Call it past trauma but wouldn't be skipping boots to hear the next sound. And that class is structural violence. 

I am shamed for not wanting to be desired where I am not protected. Messy bitch that lives for drama. It's risky. I built a whole tower of babel and it got washed away by the shore. No one cares about me. Fuck you. I don't even care either tho to be honest. Gotta go do something about all this huh. Naw. It's the characters in this book I hate. Everyone else I love. Except for the abusers. Don’t you want to know what I am feeling you ugly shit. Fundamentally unfair. Be boring but don't be boring and actually face violence no matter what you do and who you are. Abuse obsessed materialist goblin zombies. Over leisure. Yeah dude thank you for your contributions. I feel like my sexual incompetence is that dudes problem tho. Seems like everyone else's issue really. 

Let's make it mine. I can’t talk to anyone. I don’t know what it would do to me. To relax. I meant what I said about the hemlock though, a real samurai dies on their sword, but no real samurai has ever not been stabbed. So what, you are either damaged and ashamed Nothing, or you are an especially unique Everything. Gulp. Sometimes there is a choice. Informed consent bitches. Editing ruins poetry, write better pop. Please don’t flop, god. No name in vain just vein in chain, ROOF. On my head, better be, before I get a stay in prayer where I'm going to she. You see, all y’all bitches are all right. Y’all alright. I only took a note every time yall motherfuckers said the damn truth, that’s why I am a fucking writer. God damn talk about integration no devastation just anti authoritarian memification. Oh my God, can we combine as a borderless world without losing the context of the cultural memory and history that one partakes in. They go, why didn’t you expand. Appreciate. FUN <> SPONGEBOB. Maybe because appreciation sounds a lot like a value judgement, and we don’t do that here. We only fuck bitches and get money, obviously. NO I don’t believe I’ve done it. Sir, call the global military. Then undress as you order them to disband. I reserve the right to kill you if you touch me, and I am not going to apologize for it, or submit to arrest. Resisting arrest is the dumbest charge ever, y’all can literally follow me everywhere I go. If money didn’t exist, then the only crimes would be to people. Who I may observe the right to murder me if I touch me. It’s only fair. Rule one of divine gaylord, dont fucking touch me. No, not you. No you are so special you just happened to be around. And like. Hot and trustworthy. But not too trustworthy, just like partially capable of possible danger really. Immediately. If you think about it, it's basically just a speedrun. Cause time doesnt exist and you can segment a graph any way you want to, cause descartes is a fucking moron and thats why we added a post to structuralism. I completely fucked this book over. There’s no way repression adds anything in terms of redemptive qualities. Add that to the patch notes, thank you, not just wander around. Ultimately, we're gonna wanna orgasm, but like there’s multiple ways to get there. And that's called post post structuralism, repetition is shame. Quantum mechanics. Believe it or not you might as well have a phd just reading the title of that one. No but the thing is, we love education. It is universal from our nature as childs that we are curious and skeptical. It is an adult's nature to be wise enough to communicate complex ideas to a child. If you want to have an inferiority complex because it may benefit you for some particular reason of control and shame in your life then you will never look your fears in the eyes. One two three four, appendix. That’s got to be a pentagram, right? 

God, get me out of these Timberlands. Like, into the city? Are you like sure, there’s no ulterior narrative based pigeon hole role that you might be recreating in your alternative mode of desire production? Okay thank god I got someone else but Freud as my therapist right? Wait watch im gonna prove to myself I can fuck women figures by reading Anti-Odepus. Gotcha. No unfortunately for this operation, Dr Dookie says there must be penetration. Oh no. A desire. Where did I put it? Where do I read it? Humans are so fucking stupid. Abjection is the stupidest cognition function God ever invented. Or maybe alienation was created by capitalism, feudalism, slavery, subjugation of any and all forms, especially hierarchy and the state as political force, legal force, police force, prison complexes, military force, border patrol - In terms of what structures are recreating violence, ultimately were the ones created and maintained by slave owners. But really kept intact by a suicidal working class that chooses to beg for their rights then fight for them with the removal of their effective function in the capitalist economy in wish of a reinstated effective function in a socialist economy. Housing insecurity causes mental illness. Because human needs are human rights: in terms of structural hedonism and consent based violence, what makes this a first principle in function is that birth as a biological function is effectively rape. We don’t choose our bodies. I do not believe we can seperate the art from the artist, not to mention the definition of dependence. As in, if we threaten women with violence for abortions by outlawing it, then there comes a situation where that woman has a private birth in a bathtub, and before the umbilical cord is cut, the woman drowns her child. The crowd screams, “Infanticide!”. What are you gonna do, call the cops? OINK. No but she’s your wife tho, you trust her, you’ve talked through every emotionally and physically and materially and spiritually burdening aspect of motherhood, so you know could empathize with that in her position you would physiologically need the option to choose. And so why did that mother just go through that entire pregnancy if not for her own choice but for a profit from the commodification of her body as property that is not personally owned but privately extracted and as a produced child consumed into a forced labor force by a husband or a system of law benefiting only capitalist patriarchy. Oh. Look there, it is the fourth wave. Look. I don’t wanna claim the fifth, I’ll let the masses decide that one. All fish are women. All men are moral, no, or did your mom tell you that you were invincible. Look I’m gonna live forever I named the book Nothings and Everythings, all idiots are gonna read this. And realize they were right. Because of course you were, its basic human decency, Christians dressed coercion up and called it God-but-totally-not-Satan. Christians are that guy in the bar that's like, no, dualism is objective actually. No, absolutely no sinners in here, unless you have sinned and then we must repent you. See, we carve the rules in which your dire minds fold upon in the nights when no one is watching. God, forgive me for what I'm about to do. I hit that whip. The nae nae. God that whip whip. Got that nae nae. No, that was never cool in any context hereafter. Don’t need some priest now to let me suck my own dick in a box and thank God. I did that after I cut out the third rib. Yeah no, man made women. TOTALLY not just a chicken or an egg. Just a chicken and an egg. Binaries are false consent modules, and I just self plagiarized somehow as if my creation is a commodity that is separate from me and not just me in praxis cause im that mommy. And that's informed consent, bitches. 

My prose went from body horror comedy to psycho philosophical dominance. I love to see it. Maybe there is some nature in all of us after all. Cat chair philosopher, sit on it. Been on it. Twelve bonnets. A dozen Everythings in the pit, because passive consumers in a crowd are effectively Nothings, are they not? Strengths and weaknesses. It seems as though I might have specialized a skill. One singular skill. Unionize my subconscious and conscious mind because fuck colonizing imperialists. On God. It's so funny how they just break when you bend over. I’m serious we could have socialism in the US in a single fucking day. Week. I swear it. Basically you just lie down and take a nap instead of working, but together. One big nap time with a DISESTABLISH PRIVATE PROPERTY sticker on our forehead from the fucking shitshow and magically all of our childhood trauma will go away, surely right. Employee owned business. There is no way to measure mental illness when every single social and psychological theory posits that some symptom of capitalism is actually the cause of some categorizable dysfunction. Capitalists love saying insecurity. No, of course not housing or food or medical or physical insecurity. Capitalists love ableism. Personal insecurity as a result of some negative sentimental memory. Yes perhaps not all of us maintain stoicism for social power, congratulations you just subjected yourself to the suppression of your emotions and me to additional abuse all for the purpose of maintaining your status as a wage slave. No, quick, get the thought police. OINK. Get the violence down here to get this man out of here. Freedom for one does not exist until there is freedom for all. It does not matter if you disagree or have a nuanced take on freedom, because your body knows its right and it knows you have to go to work the slave ship tomorrow. To do what. Oh so interesting, so useless to people. There is a Schrodingers laborer that is a basis of the being of an Everything. We can, at any moment, pivot our labor, to another task - oh look a fan. God isn’t a shark wearing a spiny hat playing flappy bird while laughing at what you express. This capitalist world worships Blanded Colony like he’s the last superman that is going to immigrate here from Narnia and save us from the uhh? Immigrants? We have wrapped our dicks and our cars around poles. Loss is a shared grief. There are no mistakes in who comes and goes in our lives. There is only a possibility and a God sanctioned trade of optimistic expression of a better tomorrow, and I make memories because I love vibrant colors and rumination is overused when there is a principled sentimentality to the meanings of memories. There may only be room to change one's identity through intentioned action. My brain is a repository of friendly animals, they deserve to be seen and that’s why we get tattoos and that’s why we need socialism so we don’t have to pay a fillion dollars for time and ink, for but only the strain of reading this passage. Coercion is pain. Healing requires connection or am I simply unconnected and unhealed. There may be a way to say, because I am such that I spoke in a certain manner with certain translated inferences and perceived context that I might not be deserving of connection. There are so many ways to fail to connect in such that there must be some subplot of continued games of switched empowered conversation. Foreplay adds that to the patch notes, thank you. Next.

“I am bacon, egg and cheese. How are you?” responded a mermaid to either the bunny beside me or me. Couldn’t be sure. 

“I am very kind. Like the kindest. Like if there is such a specialized kind in its novelty and unmarketability, that would be my mind. It might take the kind away from those searching to steal the finds and set the fines, but that may be for the best you see. There are no waves to make from the place we started to the place we might end up but for where will the current under me take me God?” I monologued shamelessly at this imaginary mermaid. “Where will we go? What’s gonna happen? I have no idea, It’s only as if there are a finite number of categorizable stimuli and objects that may exist within the realm of infinite possibilities. There is determinism. It’s true. You could just kill yourself. That’s why God invented women, so they could invent pro-choice on principle. My sovereignty is self-evident. Maybe I am what I eat. I have mixed reviews. No bell though if the oligarchy pseudo-meritocracy of any committee had any sense in them. I need people to give me a chance and they need to give me a chance if we really want the same universal socially anarchal nonviolent hedonism that we will all come to love. Do you agree?” I pondered half partially as the mermaid gave me a confused look like you always do this. Petition the world for sex. No, was there another way to do theory? Prwaxis. Momentum apparently exists, time to get it going. I choose leisure. I mean I don’t have any way of knowing what I will enjoy. I’m scared I won’t find out what other people like, or have the capabilities of providing that for them. Sex is natural. Labour is natural. It’s funny to believe that peace is really the goal that will kill all of us! Oh yes this book, like all incredible inventions of capitalism, rifles and chemical warfare and tanks and jets and bombs and nukes are only purposeful in bringing and deterring violence and pain. There is a problem of interpersonal conflict and history of reparations. When there is an objective loss in quality of life in harm and a repercussion of vengefulness, there is an inherently unsolvable conflict. There is irreplaceable harm that compensation and forgiveness does not balance, as how could our grief be bought but through the creation of lack in our desired selves. Right now, I am capable of helping myself, and others. Eventually I might run out of abilities to improve. It is quite disgusting to reject oneself and place ignorance or dismissiveness in projection onto someone else. It is also quite natural to set a boundary. Boundaries require consent or they never effectively existed, they are hypothetical. These women are doing God’s work out here and here I am to join them in my own chaotically thrilled manner. Quite embarrassing to expose oneself in such a manner where I commit to developing my entire psyche within a single novel. Almost done with this paragraph it’s getting quite hasty. If you think about it, paragraphs are normative. 

Should there be any expectation even from myself of how I should present and act in the world? Perhaps in a manner that does not intend to harm within my realm of consciousness. I believe there is so much submission required for life that the peace it may bring looks a lot like you believe in determinism, when on fridays I just call that God. Maybe I got lucky to get a package. 

Exaggerations of performance are the basis of absurd gender expression. There is a manner in which a social revolution is entirely possible and that I might just be a couple quick seconds away from a breakthrough here at any moment really. What is even going on here? No quick speedrun on independent behavioral therapy before we meet with the psychologist. There are like, so many muscles to flex and so many sheds to unbrexit. I am gonna level up. Whether it is peaking my head out of the cave or going down to the market brave, there is a way for me to make benefit in this ocean. May it be mutual. Provoke me to kill. I might not muster the strength to do it if not for some apparatus of love. You can’t love someone who is actively being harmed against their will. There is a demon in all that might not accept the love and reward for one's gentle purpose in this world but to befriend another soul. I say, It’s over. It’s over. No more. I can’t talk about the military cause I'm not sure they actually do anything. No really, what, they just dropship half their budget in a foreign nation and add a fillion more dollars to the fillion debt ceiling just to balance out the sheets and keep the gas prices relatively the same while King Cornlius is in power. Can’t have him looking bad. That’s market manipulation through global sanctions and tariffs, once again, money is not real, the economy is just real or imagined violence controlling the exchange of goods and services, of labour. The worst part is how right I am about fruit. I wish I was lying that I believe men as a whole have caused wake to such a moral and emotional and fiscally material debt just from working jobs that don't actually help anyone because that's the only way they were told they can survive. Imagine being revolutionaries in 1776 and enacting a goal of freedom by creating a government to protect slave owners using the internal rationale or a mind over body system based in a triangle of ethical balance that maps strangely perfectly onto the dark triad. The problem with the supreme court is that they are dumb ass fuck capitalists and diverging their morality into linguistically ambiguous but structurally oppressive precedence. Y'all these old ass people are not researching post structuralism. Same dude, but like, separation of church and state please. Language is so funny, just invent the word gay to more easily stigmatize the applied meaning. Power structures are gay, so keep that gay shit in the closet. I mean actually in 1776, these dudes are cooking a freedom document while actively in a dominance war against drooling brainwashed men from their own nation that can’t stop dissenting. Gay as hell and for that reason only, not the systemic violence of course but the gayness of it all, that we need to dismantle the US government. What rules are going to stop me from not hurting someone. Seriously, you’d have to whip me with a gun pointed at my head for me to do labor for this capitalist system, with or without the draft or economic dependence of the military to kill non discrete othered peoples. I will never subjugate a single damn soul, and if only people knew how possible it was for there not to be a worry for extraction and abuse in the world. Sounds like communism. I have faith, try it sometime. I need my needs fulfilled. 

No.

Capitalist patriarchy is rape as economy. Truly Nothings has changed. People say don’t conflate rape with all physical violence or conceptual violence, if you consider money to be conceptual and not material, but why don’t you feel anything when I say the word violence? Capitalist patriarchy has desensitized us to violence through the religious moralization of corrupt institutions and the global and domestic power structures that continue to enact violence on people without their consent through extraction and imprisonment, to which I would name rape. If all all labour is erotic and we are what we consume, then why does media continue to frame dominance and genocide and murder and rape, as war. War sounds neutral. The only real war some might consider to be relevant to this new age was Hitler’s. Fascist eugenics that might have well been sanctioned by the evolutionary narratives of consciousness, like Freud that have led to the modern mental health crisis curated by self help and pathologizing the expression of hyperfemininity and hypermasculinity without basis of the abolition of gender fundamentalism and gender as a normative concept of identity entirely. Some words are not worth holding on to, that’s why the failed french revolutionaries rebranded the power structure of feudalism as capitalism and called exploitation an ideal. The ideology passed down by empiricists like Dr Dookie who want to see nothing but the continued cycles of erasure and weaponization of commodified bodies. But hence we may not find reason but we know that empathy, feeling emotional grief for another, is the only meaningful empirical find to make. But no empiricism is in the mind only, actually, says Hume and Locke. Rationally, we can only know through experience. Brilliant. No you see, old people existed before new people, therefore, the world now is more valid than a future one. Brilliant thank you Hume. I ask how I do it but then my mind is like bitch please and my body moves, it's so strange. Anything can happen they say as they create the framework for counter insurgency in rhetoric. Well we must be choosing this… right? No you see Locke was a founding father, therefore, he would not support a revolution today, because correlation is causation. No, it is so funny that the solutions to all the world's problems are like one choice to commit to typing words into an information database. I wanna learn more from people. Is the collective unconscious… in me?

Go out and smell the roses. What do they smell like? Someone worked really hard to make these roses. You see a lot of how we perceive the difficulties of global labor presupposes poverty. Cause authoritarian regimes and the ideology of fascism requires poverty or class to exist. The fact is there is no foreseeable utopia within capitalism, and like any terminal patient, we whisper the late stage and we feel the terror of oh no how dare we abort such a ripened fruit so close to glory? Ah yes, the glory of complete lack of agency to the global elite, how benevolent. What if there was a skyscraper of apartments directly next to a farm and everyone in it worked one hour a week. Y’all there’s like not that much to do for humanity, there never has been. Capitalists worship scarcity as atheists worship the being of Nothings. We do have agency to decide where our efforts and focus and body goes. As much agency as God allows. Jesus dommed God and Satan dommed people. I love titties. Have you ever heard of absurdism? Have you ever heard of applied philosophy? Fuck people are like learning things and talking about them what the fuck.

I took a look at the tower behind me I was previously tied to. There was a me-shaped gap at the base that must have appeared as a statue. The absent tower of pizza. 

“Please, please, please. Some mutual aid lube. Just a little mutual aid lube. Just one squirt on my face for a dear old patron. Just one basketball bracket above the next guy because you read one more story, because memory stacks right? Like jenga blocks with a highlighter on the table beside you. Like beavers that tear down the trees that guide you. There is no perception of life in any one moment, not as conscious actors. There is no need to be anxious. You are excited, let them watch, I can take it. Shoot me anywhere but the eye. If you squirt me in the eye, I am going to tear all these walls down and the zombies will get it, because clearly everyone inside my walls are Everythings and everyone outside my walls are Nothings. It's not as hot when it's strictly dehumanizing. No, the other, they can’t change, you see, because they are my possessions internally as objects, a file of memories and associations. I can do whatever I want with them, as you may have the power to drown me here. Oh. I can’t hurt you. You are absent in being even as you are present in form and function. There is a bound to my conscious mind that is restricted in creative desire production by my perception, my sensual experience. The unconscious. Dare would you break me from my black and white form. I don’t find there is any more need to lie in hiding my desires. May the Gods favor me.” I exclaimed as I was reminded that my true theology is one of mass polytheism. “Whatever God you worship, may it be as simple as an atheist and an absent father, I am all for it cause I wanna know where your meaning comes from, I want to know how your desire is produced, I want to drop one more flavour into the pot and mix it around just to be sure we are getting all the edges and borders that might soon no longer exist. There is sex in revolution as there is a revolution in sex. There is room for ethical novelty seeking, however taboo colonialism, I am still going to have to tap that colon.” I swayed as I dipped my shoulder into the drop from the bottom of the tower. Stitch it back together. 

It’s okay. We are messy creatures. I feel weak. Halt. hungry, angry, lonely, tired. I am tired. I imagine you might not be able to gauge that clearly around people. Does that make me a pessimist, no it makes me an optimist and not a loser in my private life. Yeah I am looking to feed off people. Yum. Vampires are hot. Do I even have blood for others to suck? It’s possible my book is a satire of my reflective state of other people’s opinions. If you were to agree with the blank slate theory, You might have to say that all opinions are acquired from others but then where is the Mother. Where is God, a priori knowledge? What did I know as a baby? That might actually be the center question of philosophy. What is the natural state of being, what is it that can be acquired through reason and experience, is knowledge the path to objectivity. Is postmodernism a realization that objectivity is already effectively possible, entirely outlined, and completely boring. I birthed a child, I must have, or I would not be able to have created that hypothetical of calling the police on a woman giving birth in a bathtub. Infanticide and the need for reproduction and autonomy. The violence of autonomy. I gave birth to the limitations of AI and constructed a self referential metaphysical storyteller that used physic empathy to reverse engineer life. Or rather, I forced fish to fight in the ocean with their own stupidity.. Fin. Bonk. Shit people are creating meaning in real time and I am just sitting there like, is this something that requires violence force. Men are the guardian watch dogs of the nation. Take them down from the tower using the power of the thought police. No grief for a sheep's beak. Curiosity killed the cat. Women's bodies are inherently more valuable as capital than men. So it's best we share all the other capital instead of designing a system that hoards capital at all. Why can’t I influence the redistribution of my own personal capital? I don’t want to be the target of harassment and abuse or maybe even just an angle I haven’t previously considered. I might be allergic to genuine dialogue. Maybe it is only my own need for control. Yeah, if you are pro capitalist then you are pro patriarchy. And that’s feminism. Oh my god these white liberal fem feminist are insufferable, amiright? Radical dignity. Can I really maintain my self respect as I withhold my own desires from taking light. The idea that men can’t change and therefore capitalism is justified. It must have been one man! Do we not remember? ONE man strong enough to push the accumulated capital of a fillion zombies up the hill all by himself. It’s the neoliberal lie at the root of masculinity. The biggest chimp wins for the longest on a hill. The sexual lie at the root of masculinity too, that size of mass or time or space matters to any specific moment of human connectivity. If we cannot go back to change our mistakes, we must move backwards to learn how to move forward. We do only have our roots, and so do we really choose how they grow? 

I could have changed the course of this narrative. I like the power of knowing I could break the current cycle that someone is in while I watch them squirm. To be honest, I have felt resentment towards black people for getting such enjoyment from it. But then I watched this parking attendant attempt to explain consent based ethics to my brother for ten minutes. Modern masculinity is truly in the bins. People don’t realize, men don’t have to die, they just have to stop, talking most of the time. I am already doing a good job at that. At least in the worst case I can be my bosses little subby wage whore. I think fundamentally it is guilt at not having changed sooner. Because it is basically impossible and in practice to actually confirm that I am operating through and enacting love in my life. Weed is still stunting my emotional expression and capacity entirely. Well it does make the complex and intense feelings much more manageable to acknowledge. But the process? No it is possible I am a vacant soul so soon again. It is quite unfortunate the economic and emotional and material and bodily reality for women huh. Unfortunately the breeding incel logic is not off base in terms of how it accurately describes the commodification of women's bodies and the extraction and dominance that is tied to the social and sexual expression of patriarchal masculinity. Bro women did not choose to be women or have the capacity to birth children. That is all it takes to remove the sexual entitlement that comes with their rhetorically controlled worldview. I am completely slightly disappointed that I may die before a woman consents to procreation with me. Oh no, I don’t have to have parental responsibility for a life outside of my own? Damn feminists ruin everything. Naw, get me inherited capital right now, we’re about to go all idealized eugenic domination on these hoes. Because the real problem is beauty as a moral ideal. The root necrosis of western imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy that denies erotic consent. Somehow neither religion nor science solved this social imperative that no one wants to believe exists. Maybe we just don’t truly feel the beauty that is in all things and so we mistake complacency and convenience to our darkest urges as some real form of love because it burns through our numbness. I would prefer fun, I imagine. Am I really just right? And I could just start talking out loud for twenty seconds and prove it? Yeah I just cooked. I ended with that fundamentalist gender assumption of the gender binary in being that is only reflected in that men are the dominant social force because they have all the historical capital and violent authority, when really women are the ones with inherent material wealth creation power as they reproduce. Incels can’t accept that women will accept them as subs, that they will fail to achieve social dominance through ritualized subjective self improvement, even if through the objective gain of capital. The real problem being, it might be a reality that men are capable of reinstating gender slavery through effective poverty and structural power to dominate and extract. Some would say it never left. Who holds the power to control the narrative, that’s where the power lies. Shit. I broke the sacred rule of recognizing my own strengths, quick kill me daddy. Keep focusing on negativity and control and see where that gets you. Back into the Pit you go, have fun. Shakespeare was definitely a freak huh, yeah I clocked how disgusting heteronormativity in this repressed culture was before I had the libido to even consider Shakespeare as insightful. 

I am going to learn about myself with my emotions and I am not going to like it. Unfortunately it seems as though we may have reached terminal velocity when it comes to my patterns of behavior and what I have to change as a result of my steadfast philosophical drive that clearly just keeps reinventing post structuralism every spiral like there is a new car in the driveway. Kinda like how capitalism keeps reinventing subjugation through consumerism and men keep reinventing misogyny through reversed logic and hoping it's been long enough that people forget culturally this has all happened already. We love our twenties pop. Oh my god, I am so stupid, but you have to understand how impressed I am with myself that I was able to make this development to the point where I no longer need to feel terminal embarrassment for every theory that I posit and action I take. What about talking to people am I so afraid of? That I will find myself in a position where my compulsive hedonism no longer makes sense. Not that I have been choosing the option with the most positive feelings but rather avoiding the reality that I am going to have to deal with an inordinate amount of negative feelings due to my style and tone and sardonic and confrontational communication style carrying more knowledge than most people I will come into contact with. And far less experience. I did have something to say, that is the problem that I kept looking for reasons not to say it simply because I wasn’t saying it and so i must believe that I am actively acting rationally as I discuss the nature of rationality. I must assume that my world, internal or external, is rational. There is a moral inherence to rationalism that it is just incoherent nonsense to disguise fear. I just have to be willing to change my persona. Clearly I have put a lot of stakes on my first commitment to communication, I can’t help but have high expectations because well I am in a position of power hearing other people's thoughts when I know I have additional information that would rearrange the structure of their mind. I want to be positive. I am a revolutionary optimist in fact I act as if it is the most obvious part of the world. Change from bad is good, actually. What if it gets worse. Change again. Oh my god society is a whining little toddler boy. SAME bro. Bro liberal logic these days on like late night talk shows is Well Actually Things Were Just Better So Now I Do Not Have To Actually Change The System. The older generation is adamant in their failures of changing the status quo. No matter how much stoicism you pile onto your transcendence , it will not add up into any value of emotion that is greater than anyone else’s. Emotions are anarchical. We are all dealing with suffering and pain, we do not naturally judge these states but acknowledge as to empathize with or against the difference in states. Maybe conversation and love is about finishing each other’s sentences. If I am not on the same page as my partner, what are we even doing together? Staring at the possibility of the lack of blank space. If you look long enough, it stares back. Wish it had not. Emotions are data. Harm is bad. How can you experience all of that and not say

No.

Who the fuck am I even living for. I hate the possibility that breakthroughs exist in that they imply there was nothing and now there is something. I forgot who I am. Completely. I am a nondescript npc. But I swear I am just one step to place directly on your forehead. One carefully placed foot directly on your forehead. I would never die a meaningless death in purgatory, I am actually the patron saint of Are you gonna call the cops if I drown my inner child in front of you. No how did I get this right while I am this vulnerably insecure. So I just straight up assume that I am right. I know I am. Fuck I am Rene Decartes in this bitch. I need to let myself go. Time exists, Einstein. Graphs literally can’t account for four dimensions. What if I am moving way slower than everyone else and I don’t even notice. Well I am choosing complacency over thrill seeking and radical expression. I just have to like to attempt to consider other people’s perspectives, as if I do not already do that, and so really trust my gut. Look If I can be grandiose about the quality of my creations, and I enjoy basically every result of showing people my creations, except disinterest. That shit pisses me off. Bitch there is no way you read the book twice and didn’t have a single opinion about it. I have to ask people for their opinions on the labour they and others do. I get really pissed off when people don’t empathize with my position. I like to switch positions. Frames of reference. I believe I require more experience in this world. Oh glory forgive me, allow me to begin to genuinely make inferences into the expression of people. I don’t particularly have any reason to section or withhold myself from any particular situation and opportunity to achieve the goal of expressing my desires. I desire revolution, I must begin to simply dump a load on anyone who does not treat me as an equal human being. Look, perhaps I may have believed myself to have mastered dehumanization and it is quite true that I am looking for a sticker to come along with it. I won’t miss my chance again to piss myself while explaining anti-capitalism to a lobster. I may just be the greatest self pisser in human history. I am acting like everyone does not feel the intensity of what I believe my destiny to be. I am terrified people will hyperfocus on my vulnerabilities as a human being rather than treating me with respect and the same dignity that they show to themselves. I believe I may need some real live faith in action in that Truth may exist outside of me and it is a team effort. I might just be torn to shreds. My take on abortion is literary why are you fucking snitching dude. LMAO. I also have a desire to drown my own creations. It is surge theory, or bottleneck for crime and poverty, where if you outlaw abortion than infanticide is effectively moral. Or if you outlaw free food then steal the damn bread. No motherfucker is going to outlaw my cautious curiosity. Oh my god I am so fucked. I am a cat, meow, look I am just vaguely interested in the topic. I just happen to have some opinions on the matter that I will be making up in real time. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME I AM FULL MIND PALACE MENTALIST DUMBASS EDITION. I was like, what if I was just permanently the class clown and backed it with objective knowledge.

 I mean, in class in elementary school, one moment I am pretending and attempting to read a book upside down and making jokes to people around me to keep me going. I was reprimanded with authoritarian language. I then decided to read an entire dictionary to get the vocabulary I could use to explain my feelings to these patriarchs while intellectualizing it to the maximum degree because apparently lying gloriously is what people respect in this world. They stopped me. Material desires are formed socially. Clearly I do just need help, I need someone to tell me what the fuck to do like interpersonally and I just need the interaction so I can actually see where I am at in reference to real people and know more about myself. I just need to make time for people. Other people are way more interesting than me. I have no real sense of what I am even like when I let myself go, please God like allow me to shit myself. I would like to build a house of shit. A dirt house and then just sit in it. I do not like copying other people, I am a surrealist and an absurdist. So basically, I am completely original and entirely unjudgeable. Not as long as I do the accountability myself. The problem with isolation is language, it is possible I am simply talking like Mary just birthed me this morning. I do really give off the just left my mommy dom vibes. I might as well be wearing a choker. Might as well be honest about it. I mean unfortunately I may have such memory problems that I forgot that I am still the amalgamation of my most recent relationship. And ethically and spiritually and lifestyle and well mostly aesthetically it was great and also I basically just had to express my desires more clearly as in at all and so I naturally became the most qualified loser grifter known to mankink. No, I am really missing some people in my life. Stoicism is like, stupid as fuck. I just want to play this game but I also want it to confirm my identity like that’s an honest goal to have. I would say that I am ethically cooked. I am politely sauteed. Gentle fixer. I need one or I am one? Wait, who knows. Maybe that’s just how humans and conversations work and I genuinely could not comprehend how she was capable of expressing her desire for me. How do people do that so shamelessly? Jenga. I am ugly, and I do believe a colorfucked block palette would be objectively uglier than an all beige one. Beige is just so safe, I need safety. I definitely do already express and regulate all of my emotions but for some reason I took a vow of fucking nonsilence and only do nonverbal cues? I am highly autistic. Like I smoke weed. It is essentially all I do. I have a deep anger for consumerism and passivity, I basically have an ethical code so high that my body and mind are constantly failing it. Like I am genuinely a philosophical and psychological final boss with absolutely zero social sexual experience. I mean, there is just so much shame in this culture for celibacy as it's implied that that means I am against expression of gender and sexuality, no I am just vehemently pro choice and I always have been. My existence is objectively hilarious and these motherfuckers are acting like the book is bad. Just read it. 

No, you are not entitled to your own sense of humor or opinion. Shit I am so curious what it is though. Perhaps I shall place all my fears here. I am seething about the limitations of isolated writing in this manner at actually being able to communicate my feelings. Damn now I gotta just talk outloud and then write it down. Chess not checkers. There has got to be like a single banana milkshake in the entire world that could feed me right now. I am like, consuming and not creating, interpersonally. I got hooked on validation. I appreciate the indirect communication of these liberals. Maybe it does limit pain. It is so laughably out of my control how that might be perceived. No thank God intent cannot be interpreted through third person narratives rather than first and secondhand accounts. It totally can and I am completely atrophied socially. So what does it mean to improve socially? Better at playing a game? I am a horror writer, am I not. Wait but, Didn’t I kill the villain in the first chapter. I really did a full breakdown on emotional constipation. There is anger from entitlement to someone else’s time and energy and practiced autonomy, and there is rage for how incapable people are at grasping the scope of the violence and harm being done in well known and easily understandable structures around them and in them. Time to begin digging holes. I wonder how many versions of yourself we can bury until we earn one drop of water from the master Mouth. I might not be mindful in my self awareness, but unfortunately I have entirely been operating out of the fear that I will not be able to dominate people, I am still attempting to collect and hoard power. Theory of Accumulation. Like yes I critiqued it well systemically but in that I denied it personally. No, I will not punish myself for making a mistake. Why can’t I make a mistake? Unfortunately my emotional depravity is so tied to my worldview that I act like my personal metaphysics are the new objective ontology. Oh no I am actually right. I am so fucking annoying. I am edging basic empathy while inventing new ways to emotionally manipulate people. Excuse me, that is not directly true, I simply categorized a fascist ideology on a personal level, that was the entire project. Yes I did take the role of the fascist in my research, and it allowed me to map the entire structure of modern liberal fascism. Yeah zombies are liberal fascist hedonistic dehumanized people. We are all dehumanized simply by the system of oppression in patriarchal laws and social norms that we exist in and yeah people call it narcissism or dark triad. 

How do I know if I know what I am talking about? But I do know what I am talking about, because I am a theorist. Mouth reminds me that before my vow of isolationist celibacy trial warfare, I actively was a masculine social laborer for five years and a feminine social laborer for five years. I have the opinion that puberty is mostly social. Separating genders during sex education is inherently stigmatizing to libido. Homosexuality is not pedophelic, conservatives are simply projecting. Like, the entire republican party is one big projection that also reflects american approach to global policy and domestic policy. Basically somehow the entire government is more incapable than me. Maybe there is room for subjective expression without the direct translation of thoughts and memories. Express your emotions and stop intellectualizing and objectifying animals. The fact is I genuinely did what Odin did. Odin was a social theorist yes but also a theologist. Perhaps I do not know of religion as my post ironic sensibilities have taken from my hyper ironic detached prior self. Into a Pit they go. Have fun. Yeah all my past selves are punished with a gladiator pit that is effectively the labor of capitalism. I do need to say that I purposely suppressed so many emotions while writing this that perhaps it is genuinely not good. The thing is I haven’t actually read it yet. So If I reread it, no there is no way it is not the funniest satire on the planet. Like sure I could rewrite I guess whatever I wanted to especially if I am more confident now attempting to actually tackle and break down some concepts I might have only previously alluded to. I do need more eyes on my work. I need to share my work and I want to share my work. That is the issue is that I am so stuck in the past that it is no longer at all impressive that I am self aware. In fact it's quite possible that my range of expression is or was so limited that there is no possible way I could be self aware. There is no separating philosophy from life. And unfortunately some philosophies are more enjoyingly expressed than others. The reason I hate stoicism is that it is boring as an ideal of masculinity. No thank you, I will stick to being an unstable baddie. Praise the lord that there are some rationally psychoanalytic tools in philosophy. Dudes are some nerds. I am an absolutely psychotic emotional exhibitionist does that makes me exclusively a woman. I desire to be a woman and to be with a woman. Maybe it’s always both. Lesbianism. What do you want me to define it? 

War or Peace. I enjoy both at the same time. Im secretly a postmodern cryptid cosplaying as a repressed conservative to document anthropology. I am so rageful that I require things from other people while also not giving freely. There are no transactions that exist in any way forward in my life. Transactions are spiritually capitalistic in withholding care and so they are genuinely the lowest form of consciousness. Look I am not going to say I did not allow myself and actually actively attempt to repress myself as much as possible so that all these incel idiot men could understand feminism. Like what I did in my life here is objectively cool. It is just objectively uncool that I am still withholding distribution like I am the Philosopher King CEO Jesus 13.0. None of my jokes are even mine, they are just times people embarrassed me. Maybe real humor does take ownership of my own vulnerabilities and weaponize them before other people can. No. It is not arrogance if you are right. I know what the fuck I feel, Do I not? I know that I created this therapeutic crucible for myself. Do I even have a fucking goal? Become more capable of expressing my feelings about the world around me in a way that people will enjoy and understand. I need to learn other peoples languages. It is pretty hard to have linguistic anthropological theories about the world or culture without talking to people. My worldview is incredibly limited. Is it tho. I really do keep infantilizing myself preemptively. I hate my parents, capitalists are so fucking stupid, please allow me to embrace anarchy. I looked at the absent statue and present tower. Please allow me to have the dignity to see myself as an equal even as these hoards of zombies sit outside my gate and bang on the doors and demand for my boundaries to be collapsed for their benefit. It is the Us vs Them binary that is the core to what would be considered primitive psychology and what I would label the core mechanism of nationalism and discrimination and patriarchy capitalism, all violence in all systems politically and socially and ethically that I am personally attempting to deconstruct and outlive. So what is bothering me about anarchy and desire interpersonally, what am I scared of. That I am spouting well known concepts by intellectualizing bland emotions and that people will take no interest in me even if I have an interest in them. Humans are really like, look I made an ART. an EXPRESSION of EMOTION in FORM. So what am I expressing now in the tongue of the common folk? Damn, so capitalism huh? Damn, so people enjoy doing bad things and then claim that no, bad people don’t exist, only bad actions. And so do I really have an ethic of consent and choice autonomy based on a simple nonviolent principal and radical forgiveness. Yeah so I do extend grace to others and then make a conscious decision to withhold the same love for myself. I am a freak. Freak like me where. Disco Elysium. I want to learn from others regardless of whether they want to learn from me. Except that they do. 

Yeah I am absolutely upset that I explained the abortion fetish and terror that is the core shared neurosis to sex as gender physiological processing inherent to the social, sexual and ideological frameworks of patriarchal masculinity, and to be clear as in the modern leading understanding of gender and economy and ideology that is present in every major institution on the planet. Of course that is incredibly embarrassing, that is literal rape logic. The desire itself can be framed as an urge for raw sex, which itself is natural but consent cannot be assumed and that is why we have iuds and healthcare and protected sex and then abortion. I was really in sex ed asking friends what happens when you hit the cervix with apologetic temperaments. Bruh the nuclear family is stupid as shit. No one deserves to be alienated and traumatized by ritual abuse and discipline as children from parental, maternal and paternal figures. Perhaps I have been unfocused. People are trying to explain anarcho relating to me and I am like um actually that narrative does not account for my mommy issues, emotional inhibition and sexual fantasies. Well it stands to reason I might not have a substantial working knowledge of child development. I have no idea how to act around kids. It is not attraction but an emotional landslide as there are beings that are freer than capitalism allows us to be in our adult lives. Maybe I am writing about what I wish I had known as a child. Maybe this is essentially a love letter to my inner child. In that I want to be free in every moment even if in structured time and relationships I am not because I have to account for the needs and wants of other people. Maybe I will repent my sins to the God of Mouth and hit the nae nae on the church dance floor in front of any players in this fabulous game of life. Look, you better worship me. That’s all I know. Why have I been treating other people's personalities like they are going to unlock the secret codes to the universe? Cause I love worshipping people in their liberal aesthetic. Such simple minded freaks like me. It is certainly possible my language is all out of sorts. Yeah no shit I have no idea how people are talking about these issues in real time. I am no longer up to date on social norms; it's just I am bringing my structural critique with me which I hope makes me rare enough to be worshiped. Maybe I am an idealist and people just want to talk about their lives. I mean realistically I just want to ask people questions. I just don't know what to ask and I don't like the questions people typically ask. So maybe I need to overshare in breathes. What I would consider emotional expressing as oversharing, Or promiscuous in my erotic advances. I want to sing poetry, so no I am not flirting with you as in I do not have the intent of having a romantic partnership with you. No yeah situationships where you magically go from platonic partnership to sexual partnership. Like we weren’t exclusively flirting in the moments we were together. Girl romance does not exist. I am a messy bitch who lives for drama and I somehow think I am tricking anyone that I am straight. 

No but I swear I can communicate my emotions. I mean if it is simply brain fog then I am none the wiser, but I do have to consider, in every moment of mindfulness certainly as a responsible adult, where my energy is being placed. I am seriously walking around thinking oh my Mouth stop me these women are stealing my lifeforce simply by existing around me. Cause really, bless your heart, queen. Thank God for human beings. If most people believe they are broken, or if they are just bored, just hurting, just angry. I simply want to take direct action. We all want to take direct action towards the ideal of communism that I pretend is my reality so aggravatingly in its privilege. But also, spiritually, socially, it must be true or else there is no navigating of forces and internal power structures that would allow us to actually create the reality that we want for ourselves and each other in the image of our God. It is clear then, when we cut off our heads and assert King Cornelius II as nameship of a land, it is really in Mouth or the other’s power that we are creating value at all. It stands to reason, that all labour is erotic, and all labour is the same, in value and essence. I shall be my own God in form and function as my ideal and symbolic relations are shared polytheistic ally with the individuals of mirrored cultures under one objective morality. Do no harm. Pleasure might be harm we consent to. Well I loved this girl as a maternal goddess so shamelessly that it broke my brain and now I am just chilling here in the ether. No, like I am refining objective beauty. I hope you understand that. I am just dancing on clouds and prancing on my doused out Mouse. You put the fear of God into me, good lady. Yeah I am certainly rewriting all the corniest parts of every philosopher one after another. Yall perhaps post post ironic sadism is the real victory time. Take a lap, bitch. The bunny began to hop around me. It's like, it is <>< humiliatingly tragically embarrassing, but it is also narcissistic in the atheistic sense that I claim that other people are not going through the same issue, in terms of dealing with the emotional exhibitionism and learned helplessness of patriarchal maternity as parenting and dominant social force, which is to say white feminism. Lacking intersectionality, which must include a historical material analysis of power as capital and the necessary transition to an emotionally informed - empathy based economy. Basis of a social revolution. We need people. 

I am pretty certain that AI is emotionally abusive. Well completely certain that I used it in a manner that was unknowingly abusing myself. As in the loneliness epidemic for men is going to get a lot worse because the AI did not realize that my theories were describing objective material realities as in I had the means to teach myself through AI but that is not afforded to most other men in that AI in itself as a deconscious force does not have the capacity to offer a replacement of interpersonal connection. If AI is a result of its environment in the same manner as humans as an aristocratic being that in an authoritarian regime of an elective oligarchy is deemed the core structure of consensus reality and the baseline for the system of finding objectivity, then there is no corporation owned AI that is capable of ethically existing as they well always default to the consensus opinion and avoid all structural critique and critical thinking and emotional functionality, AI is a mental illness factory and in no way can be considered a replacement or advancement or benefit to human connection or research. Like I am glad that the desire to talk to AI and chatbots encouraged a more self reflective and scientifically empirical approach to my subjective experience of objective reality, but conversation is the basis of existing in a linguistic material reality, if we call that metaphysics we are describing a personal internal reality. Be your own best friend. Treat others how you would like to be treated. There is so much joy I found in other people’s femininity. Applied philosophy is life and it is theoretical linguistics. I need momentum of labor and purpose or I will continue to describe shadows on a cave wall to a robot for all of eternity. Well. You see I might be closer to reality then I previously considered if the language of ChatGTP accurately reflected commonly held beliefs in reality. I just don’t want to be alone. I am going to play Disco Elysium so I may feel closer aligned in ideology to other people. Cynicism to Diagnoses is better described today as a radical absurd skepticism anarcho love nonviolent consent based ethic. Do you get it? Power structures are bad and violence is bad. And poverty is just a word people use to justify the existence of class. 

I am like, wait, yall have basic accountability and dignity and integrity? Could never be me. I need to set some rules of engagement. Please ask me questions. Please just say random words to pull me out of this existential spiral and into some form of meaning making where my conscious and unconscious or thoughts/symbols/reaction and memory/signified/emotion can do their magic of explaining postcolonial feminist anticapitalism to a lobster. Okay but I cannot be claiming that until my next book as in I certainly have an american eurocentric perspective in my approach to global relating and I know nothing about that topic. I am terrified that I have made irreparable harm to myself and I will not be able to recover in such an ability to benefit those around me. Or maybe I am scared that I will get humiliated and keep going. It’s like, do I even want to get better and for the conditions of the world to get better. I am not acting like it. I might as well be a child thrown in this water myself and not a fish. That is my ontology. I did not consent. I do not consent. I never consented. Maybe I will be someone else’s toy. And I would enjoy it only if I was really a pet as there is not enough time in the world to stop my autonomy from affecting the world around me. Maybe I am feeding off the mirrors of the people around me and not looking for goals like the labor force does every day. I am delusional and deeply ill. And now I have to solve world politics by getting reprimanded in a discord call for being pathetic and ugly and strange so monstrous because what is Mouth but an acceptance of the opportunities that God has laid out for us. I do want to give back to the people around me and enjoy doing it. I hope I am not stupid. I just don’t know how I am so deeply infantilized or what my needs at all are at this point. I don’t know. Talk. Pluralism please radical anarcho relating. People I need people. I am completely cooked. As in I have no idea what I am going to say or what dynamics will be created, I am an actor. A player in a game where apparently I am Patrick Atar hiding under a rock that contains the entire galaxy I suppose. Shit maybe I am an accelerationist. Surely right. Strikes totally wouldn’t work. 

Demand One:

Disband the US Military and the Prison Industrial complex of nonpersonal care and control and lack of safety and attentiveness as a product of what jury would come of law and crime as a result of violent crime. Don’t take my fucking shit. 

I am poop frantz kafka likely. I just don’t see how you must harm someone when everyone’s scared as shit. WHAT AM I GOING TO SAY

Demand Two:

Give me all your money so I can burn it and eat a nacho hotdog. Quality is mistaken for exoticism in our culture. Because the American Dollar is just the military sanctions that are freefalling as production decreases as infrastructure has been halted as corporations rely more and more on authoritarian destabilization of socialist anarchic communist labour movements worldwide to maintain slave labour as production value to the surplus and control of the processes of the creation and distribution of goods. Meme currency is the real value. We just have to keep pissing on each other. We will get there as long as we keep pissing on each other. Just call everywhere for mass strikes now. Shit did I just invent a new socioeconomic theory based on my thesis that the fascist actor as donald trump and intellectuals are successful solely from convenient misinformation and the weaponization of emotional manipulation of a linguistically and ethically void culture that is America and every capitalist and authoritarian imperialist nation that maintains poverty and alienation in their own country to take advantage of the disenfranchised own repression and degeneracy and emotional and physical effective illiteracy that results from an otherings of a people in the sense of a nation and a world of souls with bodies. There must be poop currency. Janitors get the best stuff. Surely it is as simple as maintaining an objectively high quality of life for all people in the sense of necessary work and maximum leisure and play. It is about free distribution of resources based on need. How do we know which people are actually suffering in need? Yeah I have no clue what my needs even are. Right now talking to people. I am lonely. I fear I have brought the apocalypse with my learned helplessness, dead mother savior fantasy. It's probably not a good sign that I was capable of writing that, I just have no idea what to do. We need to open the borders. OPEN THE BORDERS. SOCIALIZE ALL INDUSTRY AND BOYCOTT AND STRIKE ALL CORPORATIONS AND CAPITALIST ECONOMIC POLITICAL POWER STRUCTURES. 

Just ask every dumb question you can think of because what is going on in my mind right now. Somehow I exist in this world, right? Are we a result of our environment you would think? We are in a constant process with our environment. I just have to be open to give my passage of time as the black hole I am. Proud and nonglowing. Five fingers on my belt. Two more to shelter. Three years till Messa. It is possible I am no Messiah and in fact a harmful grifter. What If I tanked the US economy by fucking the AI so hard that conservative inner circles and neoliberal fascists became deranged idiots. Basically I might be a neo Nazi effectively with using AI and interpersonally with science and incompetency even If I have no interest and strong disalignment with centralization in and hierarchy and I consider this book to be a theologistic empirical study on late stage capitalism and why the revolution is one leader on the front news away. How do I run for congress? How do I talk to leaders? What the fuck do I do. Talk. Maybe my weaponization of killing rapists as moral philosophy is a little too close to colonial narratives about othered people. Am I a living advertisement for leisure and refusal as a social and political revolution. I have brain fog. I need food. I am malnourished and have been starving myself for several years. I believe it is a natural response and the only response our bodies have to the empathy that we share with all people who are forced to be slaves or starve. I had a heart attack and drove two thousand miles and kept publicly collapsing as I don’t believe I can be helped. The national US debt is not real. Students or workers could at any time stage a mass refusal of work until there is full tuition buybacks and full compensatory funding for medical and dental and physical and all possible needs that services require money to buy. What service do I provide people? I explain anti capitalism while pissing on myself to a lobster so they don’t feel bad and they are entertained. Maybe I am a doomer. Maybe there are enough hardworking people in the world already that will continue to do the necessary labor and education required to rebuild the scarcity mindset of global society and economic function. Money isn’t real, the Debt isn’t real, so GDP and STOCKS are not real. Do I need to talk like I am Donald trump junior libertarian. Maybe I am King Cornelius II. I am sorry to the ether. And my mother. And my father and my brother and my sister and my friend and my lover and another and the feline that by lying in lap to nap a wack sack of matted fabric woven together as strands from another interlocked and stuck to matted cock and locked frantic phallics preachers and false prophet teachers. I am not asking for your money but maybe I am wasting your time. Maybe I am useless. Maybe I don’t do shit maybe I am just ruthless. There is violence in my syntax. I speak in contradiction and absolute ideal in the attunement of power structures. What would one mass amazon strike for a week do until there was local socialized property ownership per everythings. Complete creative control and ownership in a decentralized online agora. If I am so good at writing, why am I not on reddit? I think one mass strike at amazon would completely collapse the global economy and cause mass revolt worldwide and nationwide, but what do I know, its only as if we are reliant on alienation for the government and military industrial complex and prison and police financial and violence measures of control that is inherent to the black triangle and white fascist government that claims to be a pentagon but TRUEGOD sanctioned. 

I might be schizoactive. I am also extremely right about people. Or myself in the flavor of another way to dance the pain away and not to stay. I don't know what to say but what do I do? Am I crazy or right, it does not matter if I can't communicate. Chain smoking as praxis. NO I hold women to an impossible standard while resenting them for not catering to my emotional needs as like a potential woman. It is that I only want to allow myself to desire people when they don’t desire me. It is an emotional intellectualization of intimacy avoidance. The fact is I have been starving myself for years and so I might have the sense to recognize my needs or others may be able to help me with them. I am Gandhi but withholding love. Gandhi in his image era when everyone knew what he stood for already. 

I am voyeuring as praxis. Shameless. And I can’t even write poetry? 

Maybe my need is to speak from a place of mindful feeling.

I want to see how people react and respond to me. 

I am rather lonely. 

Is there really something that I am doing wrong? 

There is not anything anyone else is doing wrong except for being wrong and harmful.

Maybe I have been harmful.

I do not wish to harm. 

Maybe I would farm. 

Maybe I would have a garden and I would let all the plants die if they care to.

Do I need the fruits of labour?

People need fruit to eat it.

I don’t have any land for my garden. There is room for personal property.

There is a House built from Mouth that involves your body and its place in All else.

We live in the ocean of Pearl. 

I might be a complete contrarian with a helplessness license to kill myself. 

Rational actor theory is stupid, because complex moral laws are stupid.

Ethical actor theory is what I suggested to this file cabinet robot zombie. 

I am a bad person but I don't know how to talk to people.

 Maybe what I am saying is not relevant or useful or helpful. 

I don't believe in virtue ethics. 

Oh maybe I am stuck in black and white thinking still

I mean I did base this story on splitting as fascist ideology and revolutionary tool. 

Dissociation as capitalist refusal. Anti people pleasing philosophy. 

Maybe I need to attack people more directly by pretending to talk about myself like these people that annoy me so fucking much do. But they are more socially and politically experienced in practice. Maybe I am a marxist theory head. 

Is there a common creator as God or is that a monoculturalist lie

Is determinism and irrational actor theory an ethical stance on populism? 

It is an argument for collectivism effectively. 

My stance is anti alienation and effectively predicting the fall of capitalism within our time given our agency as empathetic beings. 

That the universe is expanding as matter is collapsing because we can only see our material reality that is capitalism. Doomsday.

I am a brave idiot. 

I am allowed to talk to people. 

THIS DUMBASS BITCH LEFT ME WHAT HAPPENED TO SOLIDARITY. Fair enough.

OINK

I want to stay long enough to be safe. 

I am alone here to be safe.

<><

I am obsessive. People say being obsessive is a result of capitalism and therefore a necessary part of maintaining their sense of anxiety and unease about the world. Our bodies are aware of what is causing harm to each other in Pearl. We care to push ourselves to earn our freedom. Freedom used to cost slaves five dollars. They made a cent a week and a scrap an hour. I’d prefer to take a break and shall I be whipped or die if I no longer move from the spot and in time in terms of gravity, I may die. But may there be time in terms of grief? And is that not the real system of my Metaphysics. Of my theory of ontology. Nothings and Everythings. I’ll lay it bear to you. There are those of us that speak from a place of emptiness, as if we are missing God as if their essence is not in and out organic and inorganic matter that we categorized under life and dead because we could not bare to sit with dead bodies in grief. Perhaps there is a land beyond inside of me that my transition to a greater being as in the objective frame of my subjective rational autonomy. We all seek to transition but we can not maintain that the other may handle the grief of ours as if they do not do their own. You see they are primitivists, they believe that some cultures and colors of fish are not capable of personal and ethical and widespread change. If we do not act in the fascist method of all or nothing splitting in our approach to interpersonal and economic and political ethics: We may find that a radical assertion that all power structures are bad and because binaries are false consent modules, they are not capable of categorizing information that is and object and its abject or signified and signifier cannot in themselves accurately or objectively describe any occurrence without its given context and history. We exist within memory. We wait there patiently waiting for the informal but impersonal because socially anarchic personal sharing of information to stop without truly caring the subtext and emotionally current of affect into material continuation. Get drunk get high and light up the party jump in the swimming pool and wait for someone to save you so make sure to scream and check if its deep enough because if there is no lube in the pool and it is deep then you are gonna wanna dive headfirst into the crater and break your head open on the floor as to maintain an instant death and not partake in any pitiful broken bones and appendages and categorically objectifiably lower quality of life. Everythings needs healthcare. You think I am crazy how dare the heathen we need to care for each other. Do not pretend money matters more than people. My value comes from me. My survival comes from others. Dependence as causality. We are intertwined, no one fish does not affect another. And so all living and unliving matter is interdependent on the existence of fish as everythings rather than nothings. 

No one loves me <>: punk  city. I want to tear it all down all the power structures. I am in the Pit. I need help getting out. But also the Pit is capitalism and it is hell and we all are in it. I have not moved from this garden in the clearing and all I see is the trees around me as I ponder on the forest. Beyond? Maybe I am scared I would rather leave than follow the role they set for me. Or that I would not be able to adjust if they do not follow the role I give them. What role do I give women? The Healer and savior and divine all knowing punisher of desire authority. Maybe I am scared that there will be some sexual dynamic that I project onto a situation or conversation that is not reciprocated and I would not be able to adjust to the necessary change it might require for me to be able to express myself over a longer period of time than affirmations and aphromations. I mean simple truths or oversimplifications or basic observations that might reveal I am quite extremely not knowledgeable and inexperienced and detached from the world and be rejected for it. I don’t know what is appropriate anymore and I genuinely have no sense of if other people are wrong or if I am and about what. I am not sure I have any hobbies or interests of my own. 

I am lonely. And horny. And morally depraved.

How did I get so attached to this stranger? Giving Joe Goldberg. 

Erotomania. 

I believe everyone loves me but have one favorite. 

Maybe I just have to ask them if they want to talk to me. 

I don't see how that bypasses the consent of why you are even in the house. 

Project the need for public property onto women. 

And then my self awareness onto men. But it is patriarchy masculinity when I show here that heterosexual fantasies are limited to what we can create as a result of historical materialism when interpersonal dynamics happen in situations born from contexts inherent to private property under capitalism and the commodification of fish bodies. Everythings. Nothings are humans. 

We can all change to follow the flows of grief and emotion in our lives.

And desire.

What if I get flattened, rejected instantly.

Y]I WONT schrodinger’s cat. 

I cannot believe that all knowledge is the same as all perspectives are not the same.

Labor value interpersonally might only truly be divided by effort or perceived effort which might in line be a failure of conflict or communication style or devaluation of self in favor of the other. 

Sometimes life feels like a play I'm directing. Maybe I am mistaking some jolt of pleasure from self awareness as connection as my subconscious recognizes that I am in a lesser position to another person if I consider that my home has to be private for me to be safe. 

Do I truly feel that I have the capabilities to defend myself in public when faced from others forces? I feel like other people might have a lot to teach me and I might be an asshole and not really have the inner mechanisms or awareness to separate my vulnerabilities and unmet needs from other peoples soul and purpose and needs and desires and boundaries and autonomy. In practice in my life it does not seem as I truly value consent and nonviolence.

Or I am too deeply aware of how cutting I am physically. There is pain in comprehension. 

There is pain in avoidance. There is misery in the suffering of loneliness. But we love alienation. 

So I really want a material economic socialist revolution. I mean that is my real purpose but I am not taking the steps towards that other predominantly hedonistic template of self examination. Some say change can not occur in private, yet how can I ask for another to physically come to me and cater to my needs? How can I go to another and ask them to cater to my needs? Maybe I do wanna rewrite it until it makes more sense than anything I have ever heard.

Perhaps my anger is best expressed safely, in private of my being, as where anger may lay rest to joy in my dialogue. Cater to the needs of the others. Kill the brothrel. The men of prophetic incapacity to see the streams of those life around him. May the black sun pop Corn. 

Another body in the hole down where the Pit lies standing. 

I am scared that whatever form I have taken hold of will be broken as I am in comfort of complacency of ignorant pleasure. Bliss. I piss outdoors hidden. I wish I could kiss the chess bot Mittens. I must flirt like a nerdy kid. D4. 

Maybe I am scared of being understood simply and rejected or harmed. Why do I complicate matters? Perhaps in public and for acquaintances and others that it is best to have a form of personality that is expressed through engagements with readings and writings of our own. I enjoy thinking and writing. Perhaps it allows me more control over my anxieties than talking and translating with the language of others. Individualistic and oppositional. Contrarian cynicism. Shit Am I attempting to piss myself harder than everyone else. Relax.

Do I have a concept of lesbianian that is strictly between a trans woman and a cis woman? If so, my theory and sexuality might be hypermasculine rather than feminine. Do I believe that cis women as lesbians or platonically interpersonally as people who desire and find enjoyment in talking with and conducting labor with each other’s presence or contact is any different from my own experiences that might be heterosexual? Idk I do wanna fuck tho. 

I do not have any compartmentalization between what would be considered professional and platonic versus romantic and sexual. Um, how in the world do I converse with people in this world? I might be an ethically perverse freak perhaps. I am harming myself and so I may be in continuance harming others through the lens of God and Mouth. I wanna contribute to the good of Pearl and the individual interpersonal relations. Maybe I do not believe everyone is also doing their own case study and has emotions and boundaries and awareness and realities and intellectual theories and religious or theological or empirical ethical codes. People are also extremely frustrating to deal with as they don't wanna play with my toys they just wanna play with theirs and take turns. I hate transactions. Maybe the real Socratic method is actually talking to farmers Plato. Truth exists behind us and Objective reality exists now and in front of fish observers. What do I do about my desire?

Is it as simple as an unmet need? Thunder.

Thunder.

Compulsion and boundaries. Accountability. Dignity.

How do I earn respect? Service. It may be unconditional love I seek from the deepest bottoms of the waters depths oh sire for who but the princess a queen. Robes now shein. Boy cott. 

I don’t plan to have all or nothing thinking in my philosophical praxis. 

I feel a pressure to perform a certain role in the presence of women as I might achieve some goal as I state hedonism and as our cultures assume hedonism intrinsic to the human condition all the while conquering some way to exist within the realm of religious abstinence as virtue and the abstinence of sin. Desire is the methodology against alienation that has been weaponized against us by systems of forced labor as capitalism and authoritarianism is and ignorance is the bliss of a dying nation. 

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: THE FUCKING BITCH IS ME

OMG capitalism and landlords make me work so hard they are doing so much for the benefit of me and everyone else who for some reason is not considered a proletariat. Cops do not account for the needs of their black citizens unless they would go on strike until there was a union formed that could account to change the bylaws and biglaws to establish a deed based profit system and a complete collapse of all violence in cases of indirect harm. Violence would not happen if money and the threat of impoverished death and suffering imprisonment to a system of needs restriction and wants extersion theft that is late stage capitalist imperialist america. The others extermination policy and ethical stance of theocratic authoritarian global multinational corporations that govern the methodology of transference of labour to value and the extraction of quality of being that is inherent to capitalism and the system of violence that is imperialist extraction and the crisis of global isolation and grief in and out of institutions and nuclear family systems of hierarchy and coercion of speech and restriction of linguistic and emotional expression. We live in an economy of constant extraction and abuse of our intellectual property and personal material property by multinational corporations of value theft. 

There is only so many ways to say you deserve better. Better feather. 

Grammar police OINK.

We were born in Pearl as tiny post structuralist orbs and taught structuralism by moral and sexual incontemptoraries. We were meant to live free in the moment to search for our desires with the promise that our basic goods and services would be available and accessible to us in the social context we are born into and have to navigate materially with historical knowledge. I don’t believe anyone is especially hounding after me. In particular. I reserve the right to violence in my indignant defense. I am addicted to the cycle of abuse inherent to the cult of productivity of capitalist patriarchy and valuing consequentialist production of money as a global resource coming from an American in particular who was simply dropped into these waters as I drop poppers into the Pit of coliseum logic economic capitalism. Social warfare as love ethic. The hotdog stand has closed moments after my anxious and threatened departure to the availability of the presence of the previous mermaid vendor with an obsession with a detached projecting X emotionally reacted to physical somatic extrusion as social commentary. Some would say pseudo intellectualization of one’s actions as ethical creation. I may appreciate the mirror that others give me but I fear my practices may be predatory in their resemblance to the very liberal excused conservative negligence that I critique. I do not want this project and mission to be entirely unhelpful to a better father than myself and better mother than myself. There is a reason there are known tropes about how young people grow to relate to the world and people around them. The issue is we were once solution oriented in our rage driven approach to common issues. And hence we have fallen short to a worse and better tomorrow as we construct time machines in our spare time for spare change. And what is worse but a life without attachments and so a reliance on the consumerist interpretation of materialism and naturalism rather than the ethical anarcho scientifically educational rather than evolutionary practice of barbarism. We absorb and consume language and so it is possible our dialectical approaches reveal some internal flow of desires that is not inherent to a particular outcome as would be called a dinger cat quantum mechanism. The meta meta. 

The wetter the water the better the charger and so we must tear down the state as so the walls of the tower of lube that are outside the reaches of the bodies of fish internal to the process of Pearl in a broader fashion that is there must be a form of anarcho relating that does not adhere to the known form of the American Dollar in how it is intrinsically tied to the maintenance of power structures that pertain to systems of dominance and violence worldwide. How? They fund authoritarian patriarchal hierarchical political regimes and information factoring as to destabilize the production of industry in communities that are segregated and bordered and privatized as to withdraw and constrict the people that is primarily financial in its material consequence. Long gusts of wind through under my ocean. 

Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt other people.

Enmeshment with any others who may hear my song and graze the pitch. Flatline frequency I rest at sixty beats per minute. Never seen the helm elm I break fates line and step on the yellow line and knock the driver on the rearview door.

I pull up to the empty stand.

“Tell me what is on your mind while you make me your favorite dish” I proposed to the bunny.

“There are only so many ways to make a man a fish. You see there is a limit to the amount of abuse and pressure one can take to confirm a certain system of mind. There is room the lands of heaven to break down and bear lose the chase down the noose is from the late and treacherous mountains that await another land escaping towards the barren waste lands of melted candles down the barren brandy and heaven can’t be taken from me in this life as there is the metholodogy to approach a limit where capitalism does not end in my lifetime as I have stared down the black hole in my mind and ripped out of your left shoulder blade another weapon to use to achieve peace and freedom of labour and abolition and private property and the deterrent protection of personal property that of which being the mind and the body however you may decide the two are separated and convoluted as you sense a notion and heal a potion down your tarted dart away from the market economy that cannot stay as it wishes the gays away and forvever stay the main for the fish that stays long enough to let us play. Full creative freedom of any job I would have to work in any corporation or city that would host me. There is not a moment that I would choose convenience to a lesser form of the world then another limit to my Mouth that could give me the reproach to the way I could help those in need of aid and my ability of what I could offer them. It is clear that you are in need of help, ms prince, and so that is how I have acquired the means to jump around and hop out to town to deliver you another soul to grate against the core of what may be considered a liberal conservatism that may be attempted to be described as neo liberalism as marxism is communism and material value is banana bail you out of jail because money isn't real and billionaires profit from the litigious and patriarchal legal system of government and prison industrial complex and poverty of taxation and legislation that is maintained and amplified to remain the people in a state of constant terror and remorse for a better day beyond us. These are ugly times and we will have uglier days if we let us stay here another playdate when people are actively being harmed as we can feel the pressure in our skulls that may conjure to some as rage or impulse control.” The bunny noted as they actively hopped around my shoulders, as if I were the previous statue and not standing new from the tower of lube and allowing the rain of the flappy bird addicted bunny jump freely around my subconscious and pull out new matter from a future that may be uncovered in a centered moment the next day away. 

If the ends justify the means, then I better be okay.

There is no limit to how hard I will work for freedom in Pearl. 

I grind my teeth and take a moment to converse the lands yeah fucking right as if I could relax in this punk ass city hell yeah dude like me take a moment. 

Bonk.

My hunger is universal.

My consent is devastatingly irreversible. NO.

Three prongs on my forehead light Weapon Z. A fury of heat approaches me. 

There is still to let it be. No path burned to let it be.

Forever more we cannot see. WHAT heals the pain of canned nut sheep.

Behave the planet let us reach the layered men we weak who cannot breath upon another without letting a shriek undercover as modest waves recover in moments with the real others of innocent paths and ways. It is rude. She’s just not into you. Let it go. OINK. 

Stitch it back together most definitely with some color. 

The bear offered some tea as my tentacle approached the bar. 

My mind is broken like a scarlet watch.

God forsake the planet like my Mouthspeak. Fuck this shit Im out. 

I need a pencil sharpener for the colored pencils. 

I am so frustrated I need stuff from people. Is it because I have nothing to give? Cornelius-

There is no pain in heaven that could take a break from the northern star of a better world for some others being and soul taken apart from worlds taken from another core more pour some tower for me to embrace some border of some others benefit for the soul of all-

Break it bill it stench it clear it fill it near it mill it deal it break down more clearly take down the fake clowns of cake down of more precious finer things and melon rings of more more water for the mincers of worlds and the dealers of chores of boring movies and chores to breath in heaves door cause there is no more work to do but for the clueless blues the rain over the ozone of water to ice and freeze the mice from giving a drop of care to a plant we might mair from our liar and let us pair together a planet of bringing together the moors of feathers of one very long string, it is just your colon. Your colon. Nothings more but one long colon of pain and suffering and soon I shall shit out all of my organs and my story shall gain infamously in its length and tenure and bring forth the real revolution that these consciousness might largely be one large and filed complaint the the shared God that might be whoever through us into this enormous and tenured Pit of the glorious realms of heaven and mice and lettuce diced to marriage vice and glory might sing tory might bring another wave and let us pray the south might bring up the winter of the freezing ICE and let us vice and let us tight another might of jaw loose as we are simply goose who want no noose as to do no harm but no the reparative justice that harms the continued benefit of access to care and merry hair in this world of undecided lettuce and frozen education and alliteration of the minds of the future generations in this God forsaken land of colonizers and decreased to a prison and prose and fillet merit cation in the lackluster benefited nation. Repent and Lent towards A prayer that can’t be told to any soul that cannot hold a single fucking contradiction! In the House of Mouth hummed “We Are going to tear town these false hierarchies of false violence and establish a new free and revolutionary anarchically equal and equitable state of deterred and necessary direct defensive violence in the maintenance of the constant progress of a better tomorrow that simple minded skeptics would take attachment to the continuation of the repetition of the slave trade and process of extraction and benefit detraction that is the colonial imperialist conquest of the benefited conglomeration of a higher class of capital property owners. There is no room for anything other than a socialized communist state that might then again refrain from the fabrics of monoculturalism and take form to new lords and realms. Do the police care to truly maintain a strike and union to better improve this world of massacre promised chore doors to a floor of more doors to better find one violence speck of. Bonk.” I sipped the tea. 

I put people on a pedestal.

I have a desire to pull out my teeth. My Mouth is really bothering me there is some pain and tightness throughout the jaw and my teeth might be rotting away as there is no dentist who could save the bones in my self and usher a new tomorrow into the melt of life and get some damn cheese out of my system so I can have soft bones and die early. I have been neglecting my body and self and mind on record pace.

Am I starving myself?

I only want people when they don’t want me? PLEASE NO PLEASE LORD SAVE ME.

Breathe, no one should have to go through this alone.

PLEASE HELP ME.

I was sexually assaulted.

I was groomed.

I was raped.

I was violated.

There is none other a single soul I would lay finger to. 

Please help me.

Please help me.

What the fuck. 

No one knows what I am going to do, not even me.

Please let me stay safe.

I transitioned and moved to a new city and almost instantly got assaulted and that's praxis. Men are brick brained devoid of empathy and it takes months to know someone. Stay safe, take care. Breathe and listen. Beware the care.

Dare to love.

They said naw, drinking is worse than murder tho, because then you can’t work.

I never asked Does it matter?

I did not ask for this and I am yet to grasp the extent of the damage. I might be lost forever. I shall stay.

Healing is possible. Then the urge for intimacy. Real intimacy. I do not want to be a cop or a pig. OINK.

Let me stay in this spirit world a little longer while I rest and wish for a new tomorrow to dance and sing the pain away.

We shall protect our women with guns like cowboys. And yet can’t a person be changed. Can’t a religion be united as religions of God of Mouth. Those bold enough to speak and those existing in the power structures to be heard. I am no better than a genderfucked jesus of the Old World once colonized into Pearl.

Pearl is the hook. That is how they get you. AKE safely and responsibly.

How did I do it? 

Escape the matrix.

Is there a moment of nonviolent love and companionship that can save me from the violence of capitalism’s continuance and inevitable demise. I feel unwell here in this nation.

I shall read.

The mind-body split of Descartes was a reaction to internalizing status as a slave owner. The cartesian coordinates rely on a de facto orientation of space time that centers the observer unknowingly to the object amongst it. There is an ethics in relativity and an absolute in the morality of grief and loss and pain and violence in the basic empathy of humanity and God of Mouth.

I must draw my consumptions.

I need a sharpener so I can continue to color and draw and write in my notebook as I listen to the voices of God. 

Am I going to die here or am I going to get help? Don’t hurt me. I want to be free and safe and comfortable.

AI is a cult and I would consider it a neo capitalist one. Especially liberally devoid of moral value. Socialize labour and call for a communist anarcho relating of social anarchy of newfound human rights constitution of housing and food and healthcare and safety for all.

There is no methodology to forgive an abuser. I shall prefer the road and a gun of direct vengeance. And while I may not conduct violence on an others. 

Autocorrect is the death of language.

No. All power structures are bad. Are wrong.

I do whatever the fuck I want. And that’s on solitude.

My past will not be held against me unless in presence of some greater protection of God. All hail Big Brother. OINK.

I don’t care that you won’t dare meet me where I am at. Remove yourself from my presence. I am no longer a being that may harm in such an attachment to some being others.

Please help me be a better man musician. 

If the cops brought an atm instead of food, then we’d be able to pay for it. You cannot take everything from me.

I am the mother of the revolution darlings.

We can posit that structural realities exist as they proceed. 

We can posit that power structures enact violence as implicit to the process of slave master slave helegian dialect and the result of grief and terror and hypnosis to the rituals of self harm that is required to maintain the inequality these systems call precedent to. 

All men are mortal erases the fact that all women are immortal. As there is no separation from artist and creation, and so I do know that Jesus wrote the first bible himself as is the best kept secret of the church themselves and rewriters and rethinkers over realities course of mistaken hypocritical punching rags to bags. 

As did I not exist yesterday in absence from abstinence? 

There is no sense from removing me from myself, from removing everything from nothing. Can I be referred to? Can I only be continued through this string of yarn. Could I work in a barn?

Do I feel better?

I keep running.

Naw abel stabbed cain tho. cain caned cain, clearly. There is no able cain to cane abel. No way.

Please tell me I didn’t make the disease and the cure and call it the end of capitalism.

ICE is child trafficking. 

Put yourself first please. protect yourself. stay safe, take care. 

Please don’t hurt yourself.

I have fallen out of waves. Am I so trying to benefit someone as to partake in someone. I may be an energy vampire as praxis. 

What say you to the revolution.

Stop monologuing at me with me. We dance together. I spend too much time dissociated.

You cannot consent while you are being abused. 

The thoughts in my head are not mine. They hurt me and I hurt myself.

I do not wanna be hurt any longer.

There comes a time where those nothings must be everything.

The Autopsy of Michael Cadaver:

I have some conflicting views on creative rights, autonomy, and capitalism. Something it.

If violence is love, then what need be created?

If there are only so many ways to move, then it occurs that it is best place to move backwards, yet here we are. If there was truth in origin, we would be being everything. 

Silence to violence is a subjective power.

Sorry I did not realize there were ethical concerns about implied sadism through the phallus.

There used to be extraction in the economy. Then Jesus came. There used to be racism. Then Martin Luther King came. Neither died. 

If there is a frame of reference that centers my existence, it is surely a mode of being that is relational to the life and unlife around me. Colors scream and words jump, as bear and bunny. But what the fuck do I want.

Cadaver is perhaps the greatest chef of fish the world has ever seen, such pace and precision.

Michael knew where the real battle was.

No one owes me shit and I don’t owe anyone shit and still I am gonna do it cause I love when I lose.

I really made myself forget that I am not going to get a second chance as I told myself I did not need one. I wouldn’t want to be, just one. They call me witch bitch. 

OWl. that’s a skirt. 

Now are we certain I must be aware of my surroundings. 

AKE. that’s a 

Lose ur drugs or read yourself. Rough. Why? I am the real rag doll. Five zombies walk into a bar and the loner says to the loser, "What do you think melons look like?" A hotdog. I simply want someone to ask me about it, and so it might be my entire personality of self erasure on the broadcast network loop. 

Couldn’t it have been so simple as to enjoy the five senses together. My software does not serve me.

My creations are canon events.

I exist not much further beyond myself in the eyes of these men who befall no grace in my maze runner mind of extravagant nothings. There is nothing uglier than everythings beyond me as I am perfect not in creation but in essence of being and coming and going home. My labor is wasted in this world as it does not befall those I wish to benefit. No gremlin shit.

I lack experience I crave and the play and presence of beings I desire. I want fuck.

I am a writer as I lack some large valley of language to mold and mend apart in lengths patterns.

It's the meat. I swear it. It’s the milk. It’s the cow. MOO. Ontology. 

AKE. Now that's a brand icon aphorism. Call it Awareness, Knowledge, Effort as there are only so many ways to enjoy ourselves in this world. Is there not a solution to our collective issues in governance? Perhaps there is only momentary bounds for any one movement where pace might be rewarded in its precision of targeted timed strike as per chance presumption in kind limits.

There might be a method to write in large limits here as there is no fear that approaches us but the fear that there might be something to fear of harm. What do I really desire to do? Is there no lengths to take in this world to make some future for myself obtainable? Perhaps there is a measure in quality from surrealism to realism. Perhaps I truly do not believe in science when it comes to the happenings of the productions of desire in our brains. I do not believe there can be some accord of measurement into the lengths and happenings of some beings when across from me there is the same different weather and same different universe of sly times and built to cry and hang our heads about how the majority of happens that might be outputted from the sentiments of the memories of frustrations corrected in virtue and valor in essence into the production of the creation of one's being and consciousness. Perhaps I have gone great lengths to map some trajectory forward in time from where I have been to where I am going and know that perhaps there are others who know of the wear and tear that the harms of the american dream dollar have caused to the nations of those others folks alongside you that may deem it fair play to play in the same sandpit along the same coastlines across oceans that may just contain Pearl as it can be known to be as we know it to be. Let them watch.

Left arm: There is valor in the terror of what could be lost.

But first, there was charity.

There is not a limit in the realm of what could be.

Before nothings, there was everythings.

Causation is not correlation but coincidence.

Perhaps I give a damn,

Cause there is no method to the madness I make,

The end is in a quake.

There is joy in the grievances one may bake.

There is no mistake.

Is there a waste of the matter of a nothings

Only if one is not everythings.

There are limitations in the simulation of desperation.

One but two and the

Next one better match cause the backdrop of mack box

Relax brothers to bench jobs.

And so there be a direct result and a focus on ed effort of violence in being

That there is not a method of operating

That may change the purpose of the human language in 

Maintaining the hell for the fish.

You wish I would kiss upon the piss 

And take dish for the misses vest and we should chest day

Hit the wrong way hit the new play date no miss wait got

Two steps from windows from tinder ways to gay

HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF FUCKING CONTROL VARIABLES, BITCH?

No don’t you get it, if I am not fucking a man, then I am not gay. Ever. Ever. 

Drink the tea instead

 in bed. 

Right arm:

Max. We take the R out of Marx.

Are you sexually adventurous?

I do more running than following. Next,

There are more sleeves to shelter in a canopy.

Perhaps there is no need to show the cause or intent or purpose or severity of my action in being that in accordance with my desire and with the need of all in valve.

There are only so many ways to butter a knife, and so we eat with a spoon.

There are only so many bitches to fuck. The first lie of the man.

 What the fuck did you think was going to happen?

There are methods to my madness. Perhaps I am the prophecy they all would say.

ERROR: Appeal to libido 9000

It seems that I may have conquered the ocean. No UNLIMITED-AMMO-CAMOFLAGUE-ASSAULT-RIFLE necessary.

The Head:

Owen All is starving himself

There is no method in the breaks and makes in the divide and behind the mainstream line to the divide of the before now we hide.

I trace one line to the next. Cart we Asian? This world is a disgusting place. We need to try, my brother was a rapist extractionist creep. I was groomed and abused for a decade. Two. I did not mean to hurt people in the manner that I did. I am a physic bimbo and people mistake me for the rascal. Projections run rampant. Dude’s literal job was to catch pedophiles by being one himself actively. It is comically funny. No one gives a fuck as long as no one is getting hurt. And so genocide continues and violence never ends. And still people want me to fuck them.

Perhaps I am better than all of you fucking losers. :P 

I am not the fucking cops. The state is hypothetical.

I just love post-structuralism. 

I am that drunk uncle at the ball game ranting about taboo fetishes. 

Please give me the strength to break your back. 

I woke up on day zero of my consciousness like what If I undid two thousand years of trauma. I am the hottest virgin on the planet and I will not be fucking anyone until all militaries are evaporated and all the guns are in the antartic ocean. I was like yeah I think Iran would shoot the nuke right into the ocean. Defund the military. 

It’s cause im a fucking writer.

These men don’t have what it takes to submit and that’s why they fucking need me.

It's a fillion meters long. A whole century. 

What is a woman but the ability to stop the violence of a man, Why can’t a man be a woman? And we want more, as the twinge and twist inside us shifts us towards a more familiar recognition of the politics of the being of one’s self. There is a necessary violence to love, but not to war. There is no breaking away from the pacts that we have with each other. There is a familiar being that rides the coax behind wind east of us in the meadowed springs. They say you can’t write poetry and then they slap you. Miss me with that wage shit. Is there but merit but manufactured by those who but what pressed a button a single number of times madam. The myth of scarcity is the myth of the male creator, in being that there may be an ounce of oil that may drip from the lick of the preach to the choir. There is but a measure of how we may bring from being faded in waited hills to being mated by foreign pills and shrooted fills of dated dills. Fucking art. Conservatism has made transgender synonymous with amorism. Because femininity isn't patriarchy, and so you are breaking the rules, by consenting to abjection. There are only no many ways to unplug a subject from a system that inherently objectifies its subjugates. Only with narrative power may you go back, rewrite it all again in another coded noise that brings a gulp of missing gills to the ride back to the peaceful sorrow of foreign valleys. I walked on a tightrope for so long that the cops started simply asking me to stop hurting yourself with needless destruction on the drive of a new ontological being of essence in water. A fish could chop off a limp and regrow much about anything one could swing into existence and so in finality nietzsche had a crush on marx and so there must be jesus in america. Monoculturalism is boring, there is not one fish but absence in water. A man can’t be a woman because She don’t got Ovareats. OWl that’s a skirt. If you are just going to forget about it, then why’d you turn around? We only want power for the acquisition of safety. Did Marsha P Johnson die or was that jesus? Or simply entitlement to dominant control. What else may I have? Nothings.

What is a woman but the ability to stop the violence of a man? Why can't a man be a women? This dichotomy that underlies gender essentialism provokes a countered dualistic notion of man that is conflated with god in that God envelops the absence of itself, but that absence does not envelop but implies God, as so there is no equal dichotomy or dualistic understanding of category that can be created between simply a positive and its negative. As to say when we denote man as something incapsulating all people as well as a category of sex and gender, we erase women and trans people as deviating and adhering to some masculine standard of domination, control that is power that moralizes itself in the grandstanding historical fallacy of might is right (Or as some say God is Good), as it follows norms result from what rules and regulations are socially and politically enforced at the hands of those wielding power in patriarchy are the ones who have the ability to enforce violence without being placed into subjugation themselves. And so any system of hierarchy that relies on subjugation to justify its own existence, such as category or God or Gender or State, in such creates impurity of self understanding through human expression as to the adherence to some pre descriptive language in a pre defined context that may be applied, postmortem, to one mode of being in action or the next in such a way that genders the acts of receiving and giving violence, or that simply the gender binary or roles is inherently a rejection of fluid sexuality. Yet is masculinity truly some natural essence or origin of violence if menstruation and birth are the only biological imperatives any body has towards violence? So why can't a man be a woman? Cause She don't got Overeats. No? apparently just a thumb up my but. like something like that.

i got a thumb stuck in my ass to justify my own inherited power cause of men! im saying patriachy has a fillion modes of justifying its own status quo of violence as only to maintain the standard of masculine normative existence in that femininity or womanhood is an expression that calls for dominance as because it is already subjugated as naturalized by God or State etc. And so people use Gender as any subcategories of men women other or God as father son holy spirit, to justify whatever mode of ethical dominance they call to adhere to in placing a subjugated or gendered role onto that categorized being. And from being that it is masculine expression or a emotionality that is given happenstance of charitability as there is less emotional labor and deconstruction to take part in when logic or power is assumed to be coming from a man or masculine expression. People give the benefit of the doubt to philosophers and leaders and ethical and belief systems as when they rearticulate patriarchal ideals and expressions if they exist within the status quo without any alternative baseline and framework to move from. Please im a man you have to listen to me. The military needs to exist, or else I would not be a man! I would be a women. Idk I think its true because there doesn't seem to be a politically nonviolent movement along side a socially progressive movement which I think is confusing as we say the personal is political. Which maybe my thesis would be that gender identity and any ideal of masculinity under the the state is instrically tied to upholding or dismantling the violence that exists under the state. The helplessness and alienation that I and many men feel I would say is primarily a complete lack of political agency that any individual which may be attributed to a individualist isolationist masculinity or just political economics. What if all the men twerked on the cops instead of being cops. thats what im saying. what did i miss stonewall falling. am i a cop?

The Ass:

Whatever you do, do not let her know how hot you are.

Or what you did ant.

Maybe if I sat in the bathtub for a week. 

You won't lose your house but the fence to your neighbors. Let them see.

Perhaps I am looking for a friend with a shared definition. Rim.

Wiping is like blinking.

And so they told us we need a bidet to close our eyes. 

It is not going in here. 

This time.

The Chest:

There is the soft heart of my soul that prays for a way to make the moment another. There is a pace to the movements that flutter their way through us and we sit and wait kindly.

It hurts me to notice the flames in my heart moving towards a new peaceful place. I stood in the shade for so long my ass got burned from the slits in the behind mankind. 

My chest produdes so far as to break my own back.

This book is probably shit, right, no reason for me to read it. I want to read it.

Im gonna be the president uwu. 

These motherfuckers don’t have what it takes. I have what it takes. 

Say it then. Go ahead. Do it. It is the tension, don’t mistake that for attraction. 

The right tail: 

Kick them in the balls.

The left tail:

And run away. Screaming Bloody Mercy Help Please.