Will we allow ourselves to become decimated by the aftermath of a solitary finger? A finger that just can't seem to counteract its own weight while hovering over an ominous red button? In this avant-garde, self-stimulating civilization, there is this danger that we have created. Our own unforgiving, toxic death trap. A single finger can crush the meek and chop down the mighty from their pillars of elite-hood.
The society of careless actions has it gaping jaws around our throats, and we drown in the retched pool of selfish existence. The thick scent of unrest burns our nostrils. The rotting remnants of wasted ideas thrive in the decay of humanity and intoxicate us with impunity. These are of our loins. Our blood, tainted by decades of greed and lust, coats our flesh with a thick film of regret. And shattered dreams rumble like thunder in our collective consciousness.
However, we are not so foregone to realize the folly of our thoughtless actions. We see but we hardly care. We wallow in the apathy like swine heading to the holy abattoir of spent misgivings. Too dirty to do anything about our putrification, we shrug our shoulders and shutter our eyes and ears to reality. Some even effortlessly stab a man in the back because making a quick buck on the sly is easier than an hour of honest work.
So that is our state: A sick form of Industrious activity choked by a repulsive ideology that says, 'me first, the needy neighbor last'. We need a radical enema of redaction where we are fresh to lift a helping hand to quench the fires stoked by our actions. If we are so quick to point a finger at the politicians feeding us lies, then we have failed to take a cold hard look into the mirror of hard conscience. If we looked, might it be self-evident that we are merely automatons going through the motions of that which many call living? We must do more than just pass the time, feeding, fighting and fornicating before the stamp of death is imprinted on our souls.
The society of careless actions has it gaping jaws around our throats, and we drown in the retched pool of selfish existence. The thick scent of unrest burns our nostrils. The rotting remnants of wasted ideas thrive in the decay of humanity and intoxicate us with impunity. These are of our loins. Our blood, tainted by decades of greed and lust, coats our flesh with a thick film of regret. And shattered dreams rumble like thunder in our collective consciousness.
However, we are not so foregone to realize the folly of our thoughtless actions. We see but we hardly care. We wallow in the apathy like swine heading to the holy abattoir of spent misgivings. Too dirty to do anything about our putrification, we shrug our shoulders and shutter our eyes and ears to reality. Some even effortlessly stab a man in the back because making a quick buck on the sly is easier than an hour of honest work.
So that is our state: A sick form of Industrious activity choked by a repulsive ideology that says, 'me first, the needy neighbor last'. We need a radical enema of redaction where we are fresh to lift a helping hand to quench the fires stoked by our actions. If we are so quick to point a finger at the politicians feeding us lies, then we have failed to take a cold hard look into the mirror of hard conscience. If we looked, might it be self-evident that we are merely automatons going through the motions of that which many call living? We must do more than just pass the time, feeding, fighting and fornicating before the stamp of death is imprinted on our souls.
