Some last energy. Some sickness of despair.

It doesn’t just sink down. It has some … life to it. Grotesque life. Twisted life. There’s an energy to ruination.

 

A drama to despair. An ‘and more’ …

 

We demand the meaning of meaning. We shake the bars of this world – that’s what we do. Cry out. It makes prison no longer seem so bad.

 

We’re making a last stand for meaning. We’re demanding meaning from the world. We’re not just accepting our fate. We’re not taking this lying down.

 

Revalution: that’s what we crave. But a revelation of nothing, for nothing. A purposeless revelation. The great blank. That means nothing. Commands nothing.

 

We want to know what no one wants to know. We want to feel the full indifference of the world. Let there be NOTHING. Let us be NOTHING, too.

 

We’ll make our protest. Our lives as protest. We didn’t take all this lying down. We didn’t just go along with it all. We weren’t duped.

 

All our zest: despairing zest. All our vim: morose vim. All our exhilaration: depressed exhilaration. The manic spike of the manic depressive. Don’t forget: where there’s an up, there’s a down. Where there’s a further down, there’s a whirlpool of down.