6 Minutes To Midnight, Rain!

Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night. Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world. There Was Something Worth Living For. Does that answer your questions, Doctor?

Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!"... and I'll look down and whisper "No." They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay. Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloodly Hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers... and all of a sudden nobody can think of anything to say. Come, dry your eyes, for you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg. Come, dry your eyes. And let's go home.She says I am like a god now. I tell her I don't think there is a god. And if there is I'm nothing like him.Honey...Even though you will not read to this point, because I would only agree that a symbolic clock is as nourishing to the intellect as a photo of oxygen to a drowning man...I am disappointed, Very disappointed. Reconstructing myself after the subtraction of my intrinsic field was the first trick I learned.We're all puppets. I'm just a puppet who can see the strings.A live body and a dead body contain the same number of particles. Structurally, there's no discernible difference. Life and death are unquantifiable abstracts. Why should I be concerned, Why should I care about the faith of others, when you care a damn about mine?I've walked across the sun. I've seen events so tiny and so fast they hardly can be said to have occurred at all, but you... you are a machine...not a person... And this world's smartest person means no more to me than does its smartest termite. In the end...The morality of my activities escapes me...but... Nothing ends...nothing ends... death is not an end to a cause that has not been finished...but only the beginning to a verdict... to something more than death can take away. The only verdict,remains vengeance.