Life. Existence. A rope with a noose at the end occupied by a suffocating future tense self, so trivially important. Like a board game based on reality with excessive circumstances. Law protects us against cruel and unusual punishment. Law has the power to kill. Law lies. Nothing can protect us from ourselves, from our own continuous depressing occupation; the birth-given career to live with ourselves. Poured out like the gross domestic product of worker cadavers who built the overrated wall. The never-ending nonsensical exploration of the science of being: Arithmetic, Chemistry, chalk boards written on with methamphetamines, thesauruses stacked to resemble skyscrapers, economy, national debt, the stock exchanges buying low and selling high the surplus emotions of society. Such a beautiful world when its gilded with an oil slick rainbow of foreshadowing collective accidental-suicide. Pawn your consciousness so you can pay to go to sleep. Lay there with open eyes so you can watch yourself choke on the fumes but not have the energy to care. While I stay awake: Use textbooks to pillow your face, warm your body with currency, and let your computer play you a binary lullaby of statistics. While the world is in an apathetic-comatose, Ill be the only one walking on the asphalt paved with the bodies of scholars and businessmen-the red covering them like condiments to flavor their vapid dreams. People will keep dying and I will keep walking, my eyes soldered into the mercury-toned light mounted at the end of the world. Sheen and shine into my visual receptors and make everything white. Existence. Life. Everything goes blank.

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