The baseness of all things. The rotting of all things. The putrescence of it all.
The great disgust. I can taste it. The self-disgust of the world. The way the world doesn’t want to be. Its … self-repulsion. Its hatred of itself. Its infestedness. Its infestation – of itself.
Auto disgust, basically. The whole festering sore. The great wound. What we know, what we taste, is what knows that it should not be. That none of this should exist at all.
We’re drinking the catastrophe, don’t you see? To intensify the horror. And the disgust. To increase it. To deepen it, even.
Yes, we’re horrified by what we’re drinking. But that’s as it must be. Because we’re horrified by our living. By our continuing to live. By our being alive. By our still being alive in this world! Amidst the poison! And the lies!
Skip to content
Work in Progress 