Virgin Genocide

The world as we know it is continuously changing. Collapsing into itself and being pushed back out again like sand being sucked from its shelf by Neptune, only to be thrashed back out in his violence into a new array, when, hoping to stay, a foamy claw from a merciless god drags all creatures back into its depths.

I cry for the lost possibilities of our world as the evolution of a new society comes crashing down upon us. I cry for the new generation of slaves to replace the old being built as I write that can think and act human much better than I, because no one thought to give them a soul. I cry for the fire harvested and morphed into a sphere by our unimaginative minds that can only see the shapes and colors of facts and statistics. And I cry for the virgin genocide as our babies are being raped and plundered by images and stereotypes our world forces upon them in thrusts of a story inconceivable by their young mold-able consciousness.

The beloved pastor preaching to his congregation with a bible in one hand and hypocrisy in the other is being annihilated by the atomic powered hands of the people along with his brothers the brave explorer conquering the natives and the simple artist ridiculed and tortured by his own soul.

We'll never realize what's happening until it's all gone. The ability to pick up your book and continue reading the words spoken by generations before that lived on this earth when it wasn't a crumbling mess of construction with children selling themselves for video games on every corner is where it begins. We won't realize until we replace ourselves with the new and improved that blow away any semblance of our world and continue their own as if we were not still here. Watching them do it.





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