Bring your Bars To Market Part 2: Gamble The Stars
"Shake it off, we’re just getting started / Can we break for a moment of silence for the departed? / Can we take just a moment of violence to bash me? / So motherfuckers got something new to pound in the streets / You can die if you want it / Suicide / While others doing everything in their power to survive / But that’s another side of the spectrum, another horror story for the ones that collect them / But that’s the other side of the spectrum, another horror story for the ones that collect them"
It’s the static.
Lil Al Calypso wrapped his war calloused hands around my limpdick fingers and pulled me outta there. He had new scars and hurricaned clothes. Echoes of reluctant ecstasy faded all around me and reality flooded in. Bitch flood. Through the crowds, through the sweat, through the seething eyestalkings that condemned me for abandoning my post as king of the hopeless survivors. A tumultuous road. Sweat and cum and blood despite their good intentions, their best wishes, their most base desires, all inseparable. Centipedes fled my asshole and spores cascaded from every crevice. The king is dead. Long live subjective cruelty.
Standing at the edge of careless life. Through my bugsketched eyes he was race and gender neutral. I learned through the static that he had lost his family and he was involved in some nanotechnology scandal. He was enveloped in his own story and none of us could touch him. We were watching a movie. Beyond hygiene, beyond hunger, beyond fatigue. Maybe he was the robot one. I wasn’t listening right.
A big fuckin fashioned eye swooped past and was gone. The pupil dilated for a split second. A few moment later, it was further back, connected to a colossal mess of tendrils and explosions and pure sexual darkness. Stipple caverns that made fucking, then death, then expanded into birth. Repeat.
He assumed the stance of a daredevil. He was on some “let my people go” shit. I had listened enough to know that this whole debacle was a vie for independence, the story of fractured humanity (the definition of humanity.) Broken, filthy, robbed, furious, hopeful… We elected him as our representative by either death or disinterest. His hat was spotless. Carry that fact for as long as you are able.
The monster was as broken, but did not understand the fetish of defeat; that concept we inherited from it, that pleasure from the knowledge that stronger futures come from surviving a loss. It looked upon our person with fear. I watched from a corner, crumpled and diseased. Spiders fought to get into my skull. A snake chewed its way through my ribcage.
Please let me survive this.
Please let me make this slavery mean something.
Undeniable slavery.
The universe sped toward us like the most ovulating vertex. Every manner of horror came to stake a claim as our pimp – maybe the only one that was willing to nurture this shit planet to self-awareness, maybe the only one who was weak enough to find this place attractive – began to quake with fear. The nanobots that stood abandoned in orbit around Earth acted as conduits for the message. They translated the tremors.
It’s the static.
“You will die without me.” Solid.
The agent responded. “We know enough about death. Try again.”
Silence for a while. He drew his pistol. Polished and inscribed with otherworldly runes. Familiar warred hands that had dragged me from heaven, but livened by the humanity I had cast away. |
Pull the trigger, half stop.
Nobody seemed to care.
It said.
“I own your future.”
"What if every drop of rain's a letter from the sky / And they each concealed a message if you read it you could fly / Who would send it would you bet that it was god / Cause it doesn't really matter if it's met with an applause / It's a testament of flaws i'll sit and face the skies now / Empathize with rain to anticipate the ride down / To find out how they dance between the paper stars / To embrace the dark before they inundate the night's clouds / Now that's an optimistic view / I can script a musical while options are reviewed / Pieces of me tend to die but I can miss the funeral / I fall into the view that my life is simply beautiful"
