They usually don’t set out to make monsters, time-bomb creatures seething with hatred and disgust…but it happens from time to time, a defect of the repetitive human assembly line and trust in God we must. But WHAT? Some of us are born rotten and some create themselves with a craft that must have taken a thousand turns around the wheel and the stubborn talent of repetition. I remember the drill without looking back. Another loop around the track. . . We know it’s a cycle, hate that it’s eternal and still insist on wasting another chance to maybe get off. Not all monsters loathe themselves without control. A glance in the mirror or some chillingly achy deja vu could be enough to get the ball to roll. We imagine death and the shadow of hope that when the lights go out NEXT time, THIS time. . .it’ll be the LAST time. Though against our wish, the law of attraction spins its terrible web and we are again the flies caught in what we want least, the familiar flow and ebb…A thought of what we don’t want, and again are met with its manifest. Cursing ourselves and the curses of God who existed once in spite, but gone without a fight. It returns with blame and red guilt, recognition, refusal and blue shame. But WHAT? This again and again? But it’s not so bad. But it’s not that good. The cause was once known, but now misunderstood. Does death go on, to an end? In time it would…but not here. Here, I do what I don’t want, I hate who I don’t want, I AM who I don’t want and I’m bitter and sore. Over and over again it’s the misery of knowing, the forbidden fruit and the exhausting heresy necessary to continue this insane loop! God is dead as I am dead but we live in the same dead place and I HATE the same face. What a waste. It ends with me. The sick desires, the clenching of light, the voices of fires and fear. The plan is unclear. I want it to stop and all that I don’t want is HERE. I hate myself when God is near but God is dead and I don’t believe but I am here with my hate again and again. . .