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Velar
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Probes Propelled
In times of peace, prepare for war.
In times of war, prepare for peace.
...War never changes.
The centre sentient being of our complex perplexity guides us forwards as we amass to the gathering of souls long lost to bombs,
craters, bullet shells and flames.
I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel but I'm not sure, I can't be sure, this pain is just a guideline into a brighter dimension of existance.
Sanity comes back from time to time they say, yeah, but now that I see corporal Mitchel throwing his transmuted face to me I can't help but question how did it come to this, like, where did the blue color fade, where did the soft green go away, and why are my hands covered in red?
I may have killed but He doesn't know for sure so it can not be done in the way I perceived it would, god damn those fucking corporeal nationalist pigs.
Sanity comes back from time to time they say.
The torn concrete buildings are proof of this, they reek of death and decomposing, covered in limbs, clothes and red, they would make a shelter, had they not been destroyed of course, sometimes I wonder where the hell have
our souls gone and why are we lost in our own reality,
Sanity comes back from time to time they say.
Eyes squinted, focus flows free, gates to immerse knowledges unshut. I, the man, divine and misinterpreted, owned, controlled, possessed. I, the machine, devour and plague, wallow in calamity, unaware. I, the war, never change, I devastate, desolate, nullify. I annihilate, and then rebuild, to an end unknown.
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...To an end unknown.
Now that we got those satchel charges all set up nicely like a pair of self-aware dominos waiting to fall taking their friends down
with them, my other self asks myself to aim for the legs, hah, to which I respond with silence.
Ignorance is bliss and I gaze at the sky trying to find any trace of stars but the smoke has long been hiding them from us, I believe they are not even there anymore, like all hope they left us, me, it is me they left to deal with what is left of these god damn mechanical menaces, I can see the probes, they are being propelled into the air as we speak.
They are sending out information to their superiors, the hive mind which never sleeps.
Mitchel may have been right and as purple lights fill my body I can't stop myself, my hands shake and my neck bends, for I am the one.
I am the only.
Sanity comes back from time to time they say as I ################## of my own safe.
She told me I would be able to, but now that I see the wasteland, I simply can't find anything beautiful about it.
Death, calamity and sorrow, the modern-age
Holy Trinity
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