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twenty-first, aug almost late, speed walking to my new job, i passed the church across the road, overwatering its lawn. at first, i was glad rushing through the cool mist, a relief from my sweaty hair and the heat from the sun, being as high as it was. i was glad. then i noticed the sprinkler-fed river chasing after me, down the road. pissed that they could throw water away without a second thought, i really wanted to go in, the first time i'd ever wanted to step foot in a church since i was like 10 (and even then, i was pretty ambivalent towards the whole situation) to yell at them for abusing our desert's water supply, for even having a lawn at all, the disgusting waste that it is, but i would've been too late; my situation's still too precarious: it's only my third day making fancy iced coffee drinks for cold blonde college bitches who wear their huge sunglasses inside, who don't want to think of those who serve them as people, but more as mindless robots whose only happiness is to give them whatever their little pink hearts desire when they hand over their parents' easy-earned money. instead, i left the christians to continue taking advantage of the earth. like many christians, these too must feel they have the right to. the absolute right to. god made this planet for them, so of course they have complete ownership over the land that supplies them with so much. they can do whatever they please with it. you mother fuckers, when will you realize that you (or more precisely, people who wanted to control you) created god in your own image? isn't that why he's so violent, vengeful and unwilling to accept the differences in people? it's because he's us. so while you're busy worshipping an exaggerated shadow of yourself, you deny the entity that really created you: the earth. everything - no exceptions exist, whether animate or inanimate - is composed of the same basic elements within this beautifully strange orb. our bones resemble stones, our blood is like the sea. it's so obvious where we all came from, so obvious it's like knowing how to breathe, too obvious, almost, to be worth mentioning in the first place. yet, an incredible amount of people have not the vaguest intellection of this simple yet fascinating truth. they do not think of breathing at all. and when we die, we aren't invited to some mother fucking party in a benevolent old man's gigantic hand between the clouds; no, we don't belong to the sky. we belong to the earth. curious that we go on thinking the earth belongs to us. one day, we will all go back from where we came. our energy, the warmth of our lives, which can neither be created nor destroyed, is probably recycled in order to fuel another life of some shape. nothing, before rocket ships that is, had ever left this earth. we just happen to be the current manifestations of the constant mixing process. i hope that when i go, i will be in such peace because i loved and respected the mold that formed me, not some invisible monster who has no control over our fates in the slightest (even christians agree we have free will, only they think it was a present given to them from from kindly, old as fuck god), anyone can see with their own two eyes the mystery of our birth. it's so close! it's right outside your door! it's everywhere! but, i must admit, i do love to see it in the flowers in bloom. and it's easy! so easy, wouldn't you agree, because isn't this apparent love of another thing really a thin veil thrown over simply loving oneself? though christians wouldn't want to hear any of this, so i'm unsure why i'm saying it. they would hate it all too much: it would be such blasphemy to them to even consider thinking this way, to even realize that others do. they would either cover their ears or else vomit with amazing disgust. hell, they're so lost in the agony of claiming anything they can as their own, there's no fucking way they'd ever consider letting go of their own "souls". well, well, you mother fuckers, the earth has the last word in the end, it doesn't give a dirty shit about the story you all choose so blindly to believe. it doesn't even have the patience to listen to first word of the first sentence of the first chapter. with no regards to your vain hopes that you're somehow immortal, it will ravenously consume our rotting corpses, just as we ravenously try to consume it. there's no end to how many of us it can fit in its stomach, because really, is it anything more than a snake devouring its own tail? |