Not only are we nothing, but we are also fragments.

Not ceasing to exist, but refusing to exist. Undefinable because we’ve chosen to be so (refusing to answer banal questions with equally banal thoughts). We are nothing, and the tasteless hoarders of taste, despite their erratic and emotionally crazed efforts to force us into cages (both psychological and physical), will only end up in their own insane asylums.

Fragments of time.

The rationality of a de-souled society is no match for the insane violence of those willing to fight for liberation.

A person’s life is a succession of fortuitous situations, and even if none of them is exactly the same as another the immense majority of them are so undifferentiated and so dull that they give a definite impression of sameness. As a result, the rare intensely engaging situations found in life only serve to strictly confine and limit that life. We must try to construct situations, that is to say, collective ambiences, ensembles of impressions determining the quality of a moment.”

We are neither whole, nor linear. Living moment to moment isn’t the other end of whatever false dichotomy the bourgeois voices dare to offer up as a substitute. The passing of time is just another god in the pantheon of idiosyncratic idiocies that deny us agency. The individualism of time has given us an internalized ageism that limits us like a rope on an adult elephant’s leg.

Mental constrictions bloom into physical defects.

There’s no antidote for time (not a resignation, but an acknowledgment of the next step).

“[We] resolutely supports a noncontinuous conception of life. The notion of unity must cease to be seen as applying to the whole of one’s life (where it serves as a reactionary mystification based on the belief in an immortal soul and, in the final analysis, on the division of labor); instead, it should apply to the construction of each particular moment of life through the unitary use of situationist methods. In a classless society there will no longer be “painters,” but only situationists who, among other things, sometimes paint.”

The Western-centric “Christian” normalized God (the god that sides with ICE when they rip children from their families) is nothing but the essence of a society’s twisted mindset. Suffering is not a virtue, but an act of war by the upper echelons of said society who have solidified their power on the ones they’ve cornered into poverty, disease, destruction, and dissolution. (If your god doesn’t call you to put your body in between the physical manifestation of abuse and the oppressed, then your god deserves to die horribly. End. Of. Fuckin’. Story.)

We are not made, because we are nothing. The technocratic imps can’t control that which refuses to not only be categorized, but refuses ALL categorization. We refuse for the joy of creating our own realities (situations).

The only objective fact is the death of the oppressor.

*coughs out blood into its hands* “Even this is only a humorous setback of which its ultimate control lies in how the situation (life) is ended.”

(the most terrifying thing to the social regulators and their errand boys is the realization that their rules have been stepped over with little to no effort on the part of the trespassers, and that the last trespass is the one where their homes are invaded and property violated.)

“Conversely, the most pertinent revolutionary experiments in culture have sought to break the spectators’ psychological identification with the hero so as to draw them into activity by provoking their capacities to revolutionize their own lives. The situation is thus designed to be lived by its constructors. The role played by a passive or merely bit-part playing “public” must constantly diminish, while that played by those who cannot be called actors, but rather, in a new sense of the term, “livers,” must steadily increase.”

We are trespassers.

We are social terrorists (among other things).

We kill heroes (the ultimate counter-revolutionary icon).

The identification with fragile modes of self-categorization is a perversion of agency. Personality has not only taken hold, but has birthed minions of individualized personal limitation and control. If linear time is a ridiculous reality for panoptic control, then the alignment with the road-kill equivalent of cultural identification is like licking asphalt and saying it’s chocolate.

Self-denial won’t save shit. The sheep that refuses to see the wolves behind the masks WILL die eventually.

(T H E S T A T I C I N M Y H E A D…….

Frees us

Being nothing is freedom in a society where everyone must be something at every moment for everyone.

Why play along anymore?

The Illusion of Choice will be our Downfall

Be Nothing

Go Nowhere

Attack Everything

Liberate Us all

For the repeaters of anachronistic platitudes and conceptions, only destruction awaits them. Nostalgia, the trappings of a long-gone childhood (one they killed themselves), and the sentimentality of fools won’t save them. Anything built on the pecuniary system of exchange value is easily defeated because it is a target readily available. Even time has become physical. Readily available targets point us toward effective strategies. What the capitalists and their ass-kissers love must be dismantled with militant glee.

*coughs up more blood*

Excuse us, but time comes for us all eventually. It beckons but we must take the initiative. Time must lose its control, it must lose its [I learn to forget]. Our stranglehold over our emotions must lose control. It must be let loose like Pandora’s box, to ravage the strongholds of an emotionless control mechanism. [I forget to learn]

Time starves for a tragedy. But we fight for a joy far removed from the addiction of objectified subjects.

We are not giving up anything. This isn’t some self-mutilative ego trip. Suffering as a virtue is for rich fools. The rich hurt themselves and value “experience” because they are effectively void of self-realization. Breed for the stock markets, they cluck like chickens before the moneyed slaughter. This product from that company, located at this shopping center. A preoccupation of meaningless shards of broken glass. Spilled consumer milk is their only recourse for tears.

…The universality of polite society…

As life is truly constructed – by which we mean agency, injected like a molten lava flow into a local town – the trappings of pseudo-life will begin to fall to the wayside. The construction of consumable time (that ironically consumes us as we attempt to consume it) is a prison for controlling moments and our agency within them. Time is a god, but within the minds of the complicit actors and lukewarm imps.

God is a control mechanism, *coughs up blood, letting out a sigh*, for class interests.

[god gdodgod kikillsks me] *wipes a spot of blood on our upper lip*

“God” quantifies, categorizes, identifies, prescripts, conscripts, and punishes within this whole construction we call “the polite society.” A collection of manners, normalized behaviors, civility, expectations in privileged spaces, and gatekeeping of said spaces that intersects with other insitutionalized modes of control and oppression (ageism, the patriarchy and its underlings, racism, xenophobia, nationalism, ableism, etc).

For the religious, this is not much of an attack. Like the clockmaker or bell ringer, this is not a personal volley against a specific group that happens to employ the same word we’re using right now (think beyond them), but an analysis of a Western-centric social mindset that proliferates an acceptance of “god” to hide the true gods it grows within its decomposing body (leviathan).

The leviathan is one of many analogues, metaphors, similes, what have you, of the overarching oppressive multi-headed monstrosity that exploits and fleeces us. It encapsulates (reifies) everything it touches because it is not alive. Vampiric dead matter leaching off the living.

Behaving *staggers briefly* – a favorite refrain of the parent – is but a platitude of the leviathan that utilizes time as its fixer.

*clutches head to stave off a nauseous dizzying feeling*

Behave now to receive rewards later.

Faux-Karma for the managerial professional class (bred in the white enclaves of middle class suburban amerika).

This form of obedience becomes solidified through various essentialistic and moralistic modes of societal control. This is the ultimate danger of evolutionary psychology and behaviorism. In more rudimentary modes, it is seen in the common refrain of gendered explanations and limitations of the self.

“That’s just not who I am,” is a half-assed excuse.

“Well, she’s a girl,” drips with the malicious rigidness of a prison warden.

Lazy thinking breeds willing torturers.

“…there is indeed commerce between beings but never a veritable ‘community,’ never a knowledge that is more than an exchange of ‘good’ procedures, be they as extreme as is conceivable. Power relationships in which it is the one who pays or supports who is dominated, frustrated by his very power which measures only his ‘impotence.”‘

Lazy thinking breeds perverted relations.

The whole sense of value of an individual—if one will call it an individual—depends on whether he is salable or not, whether there is a demand for him or not. For this reason his sense of self, his sense of inner confidence never depends on the appreciation of his real concrete qualities, intelligence, honesty, integrity, his humor, anything he is, but on whether or not he succeeds in selling himself. Therefore, of course, he is always insecure, always dependent on success, and gets frantically insecure if this success is not forthcoming.

It’s not that time and personalities are inherently ethically wrong! It’s that they’ve been captured; becoming distorted to serve malicious goals. We are fragments in the sense that socially, we’re being taught to tape labels on a variety of pieces that should never be thrown in the same bag. The concept of time isn’t the problem. The current concept of how to perceive and quantify time is the problem. Personalities are not the issue, but how personalities are interpreted.

Nothing proves this better than refusing to obediently list any number of banal responses to banal “ice breaker” or “small talk” questions. How do we get out of answering said questions? You can’t; not in any appropriate fashion (society doesn’t allow it). People will fight to avoid any conversation off the beaten path (small talk).

That which is acceptable leaves no room for what doesn’t uphold a prized norm (idol).

To be fragments is to be in revolt against the faux-wholeness of the commodity regime. Consumers have no room for ambiguity or the unknowable. In fact, they can’t even contemplate it, because they can’t contemplate themselves. What they don’t know doesn’t interest them.

“[God/leviathan] prizes ‘’sincerity,’ ‘good-heartedness,’ ‘kindness,’ ‘’simplicity,’ ‘rankness,’ ‘modesty,’ and in general all of the virtues which, considered unilaterally, are synonymous with servitude. The [consumer] lives in the illusion that liberty is found at the end of total submission to market ‘Advertising.’”

Just as creating a whole identity (free of any uncomfortable ambiguities or unexplained characteristics) with which to posit yourself in is ultimately an ideological creation of an exchange value system that has objectified human life, so too is “freedom” just another psychological dampener to consume more inconsequential commodities.

Free to choose how we move our bodies, but not free to sit idly. It’s in our current age of biopower where the “Biblical” refrain of “your body is a temple” fully merges into its totalitarian end. Perfection and purity can encompass a wide variety of aesthetic niches and hobbies. Tattoos, piercings, hedonism, alt gender norms, etc can exist alongside the-body-as-a-temple. We might be inundated with the blinding purity of those on top of the “beauty hierarchy,” but we are all climbing the same hill (some of us just want to be included as equals in this rigid system, hurt that the cops don’t protect us too).

Free to labor in whatever job we “want,” but not free to labor without alienation and exploitation. Sure, we have the choice to attempt to exploit others and escape the immediate level of wage toil, but it’s all grueling in an unsatisfactory boring way. The leisure of being an exploiter detaches us from our humanity.

Free to be “politically active” *spits a glob of saliva and blood onto the ground in disgust*, but not free to act. Candidates, policies, and parties are merely choices within a regimented system that utilizes “the vote” to imitate a feeling of agency. Politics is then watered down to merely the electoral realm. People’s knowledge of the political nothing but a Wikipedia page of facts, figures, and silly regurgitations that disempower us to act. The answer to police abuse is just one reform away! Democracy can be fixed with *checks bloodied notes* more participation in democracy (just repeating the same actions hoping it’ll produce new outcomes). Just pawns in a video game where the player has the ultimate control.

Free to believe or not believe in gods, but not free to question society’s gods. It’s a scandal that we even have to say whether these things exist or not! Man-made destruction all around us and yall wanna talk about god? Even the atheists fall into this trap. They’re just as useless as the religious. The question isn’t whether god exists or not, but would it matter if god existed or not?

Free to desire, but incapable of loving. Desire craves, it holds on tight. Being subsumed into capitalism psychologically and materialistically, it demands us not only to objectify, but to be so regimented as to be easily accumulated and consumed. Running from one trivial thing to the next. Desires look to be filled, satisfied. Love does not aim to meet a goal or deadline, but to believe in others. Love is the only spirituality that actually exists anymore. Desire is objectified. Love is found in the interconnections between us. People and their multiverses of being.

I’m sick of crying to hide my pain

Sick of crying to get them off my back

Tired that I can’t cry in joy

*Pale, staggering slightly from the loss of blood* The only hope left is the possibility that people might want something more than dispassionate commitments, business transactions, and endless toil.

*coughs, looking down at hands, shaking head in an indifferent manner* the blood has been flowing for too long

*coughs up life, finally* our imaginations, like our humanity, slowly drain from our bodies with continued inaction

Never being the person you want

Death as a joke on you

We cave to their expectations

Never enough

No amount of effort will get you

The version you want

Always will fail your ideal

A failure from birth

A failure till death

*lying amidst a pool of blood* feigning individuality, afraid of being nothing, we become one with the hive.