like wolves. like smoke. like the rest of the fucking world.

November 08, 2010

describing destruction.

What are we without angst?
Where would we be without a desire to fight for what we want and combat the things in this world that we find wrong and terrible?
Fucking nowhere, that's where.
Pick up arms and use them to hold up your beliefs. Don't be afraid to flex them.
We all have to fight for something; stop showing your boredom.

from toronto with love;

i’ve come to realize i’m nothing
but a post-modernist
living in a post-modern heaven.
all i ever fight for,
all i ever stand up for
are causes with no cause.
i fight for the joy of rebelling
but when the movement comes,
i’ll be moving on
to the next point of social decay.

something to feed upon,
something to buy into.

we fight the battles
to seem engaged.
we consume the struggles
to seem involved.

so mundane as a society,
we look to others for hope
we look to others for conflict
while they look back
for help.
but we’re only here to capitalize,
make money off your story’s back.
our so-called art form
is nothing but a science
in exploiting fellow humans:
a capitalist necro-romance.

50 points to whoever can guess what I wrote this about.
Is anyone else as tired of my bitching as I am?
Someone point me in the direction of Asia already.

1 comment:

  1. I guess I'm cheating, but this has gotta be about Lois and her Rancor... AKA Journalism.