The HUNT

We prepare,

blood-thirst coats our teeth clean like a glisten from the moon, scents of rosemary arise and fire burns steady. We know the destruction and pain, and that we must embrace it as a ritual. What an honor it must be for those who take lives away…standing as the God of circumstance, ending someone’s story from their eyes, at the mercy of your hands.

You can watch the turnover of lives and still be terrified of your own demise. What will you lose? You cannot hold onto yourself, your ideas, your constructed web of life.

We are locked into a web, the system in place around his. We are born into it. And we are trapped flies who wiggle and squirm.

The way to survive the spiders of organized mass control, is to be free in thought, in expression.

Say whatever the fuck you want.

Break all the rules.

Destroy the system.

Talk about mind-control.

Talk about Gwen towers. The CIA. Hidden operations. The North Pole. Heavy Metals.

Talk about breaking the system.

Talk about the Hunt

because we are the hunted

and their pleasure is in watching our minuscule lives be stolen from our potential under their cruel hands.

We must fight to live

and we must hunt the hunters

We must reverse the system

and stain ourselves with blood

in order to liberate our winds,

so that we may fly again.

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