(SHHH. Watch. Here comes another magnanimous proclamation.)
"What else can you do?"
"This is just the way things are."
"Since the beginning."
"It's no use fighting."
"You're already dead."
"Listen: I only give change to beggars while under the dispassionate g[a][u][is][z]e of surveillance cameras nearby."
"In the end, who else will witness the desperate fruits of our slow mass suicide?"
"Don't bother me right now."
"I forgot what I was saying."
"Remind me later to take all my pills."
"Don't let me."
This moment is pregnant with the possibility of release. This moment is pregnant with the possibility of release. This moment is pregnant with the possibility of release.
Power is a jugular pulsing fast now in our teeth.
It's true what they say: The fittest will survive; the ruthless and brutal and vicious will die. Greed is a mutation; war is a disease.
Ignorance is their bliss.
Bite down now.
(Look deep into my eyes: I fart on your cynical pose.)