Disgust

You can’t overthrow the world, everyone knows that. All you get is more world.

 

This world is over – over. This world is finished. Why can’t anyone see that? This world has run out of world.

 

A posthumous life: that’s what this is. We aren’t alive. This isn’t life.

 

There’s a way of living in disgust – pure disgust. A way of living in hatred – pure hatred. Purifying hated. That is even a kind of joy in its purity.

 

When are they going to come for us?

They’re already got us, idiot. This is already a prison. This is already death.

 

We’re alive, but why? For what purpose? How do we use life? What do we do with it: life?

This can’t be called life, can it?

Life, in search of life. Life, missing life. We’re looking for life. That’s what life’s for. We’re searchers.

 

God is death, idiots. We're waiting for the divine DIGNITAS. The godly strangler. The celestial executioner. The one who drowns the kittens …

 

Nothing remains of God but the void, right?