You admitted that for years, you did EVERY AWFUL THING TO ME INTENTIONALLY.

You chose to hurt me, rape me, steal from me, you watched me suffer and did nothing.

You gained massive amounts of wealth, momentary friends, and a fake life built on lies because you stole resources from me to make yourselves fat, complicent, lazy, and comfortable. Blind.

Money created an illusion of personal ownership and false hierarchies based on nonsense, abuse, and exploitation.

You viciously ravaged me for your own pleasure.

You have acknowledged this, well at least one of you. Now, what are we going to do about it?

Do you disappear? Do I? Does the Messiah come? Do I forgive as you sit and do the same thing to me again and again and again?

No. I say no to that story and let go of you entirely. I own my responsibility in overreacting. Exploding. Changing. Growing. So much of me will always be unknown to you. It is just impossible to tell you everything. 

But I am just a place in space. And you are dust here.

Where are you, Father?

Did you disappear out of fear? Restlessness? Anxiousness? Sadness?

I love you, Abraham. Not because I chose to (Do you see this buffet of Jewish Men I had to chose from? I definitely do.) I love you because I love G-d and G-d loves you.

No more. No less.

Come eat an apple. Your presence is requested by a princess.

Love Eternal, Sarah

I watch it happen

Billions and Billions

Wasted, gone

Just like that, ~snap~ lighting gone

It will happen

Very soon

Ok.

You left something in all of yoursons and son’s son’s son’s son’s son’s etc.

A love of books and learning.

I remember how you lent me your books. I never knew why; we didn’t really speak outside of that. You had in your personal library, books I only dreamed about owning: encylopedias. Legos, Star Wars, Comics, The Simpsons, birds, plants, all science topics, Harry Potter…etc. etc. Etc.

Steve, I remember you. How you quietly observed and read and read and read. In that I found peace, in that I found hope, in that I found true friendship. I just wanted to acknowledge that and say, thank you, for showing me a piece of what love was to me.

Respect.

Historically speaking, men who have wanted to own and control the world die.

Yes, ALL OF THEM have died. When they do, they leave the world holding pieces of life and trying to find the rest to have so semblance of normalcy.

Most die in very brutal fashions, too. Heads on stakes, hangings, decapitation. Like the people they have been elected to represent figure out they have been duped and off the mother fucker. Justice.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, watching it all burn to the ground will be highly interesting. Like stay away from me if you think you have rights.

The nukes will be dropped on the United States of America in November. In a big blaze, all Eastern powers will attempt to obliterate us off the map.

Meanwhile, the so called leaders of this country who blinded with lies and deception will be comfortable will those they have enslaved suffer horribly.

What do they care, you ask? They don’t. In no way, shape, or form. They think you deserve it.

Well… like I said in the beginning, everyone meets their end.

What a year! What a guy! That C.C., you know him‐-“in 1492, he sailed the ocean blue [insert other lyrics that glamorize rape, war, forced conversion, brutality, etc. Etc. A general not cool, bruh, vibe]”

Like for instance, I have a vivid memory of the man’s eyes that I looked into as he raped and murdered me that year. Like don’t think I  forget that moment. Cause literally it was a moment for me.

Good Ol’ C.C. and all his cronies. What devil possessed you?! I was a child walking through a field, and you stole from me, took the very breath from my lungs. Blood of innocence on the dirt. Parched lands follow.

They then proceeded to take my sisters and mothers and aunts for their own. Refusing their language, dress, and traditions. Peace and love, fucking bastards. Rapey murderous cowards. You cannot do that to us.

See, I read of the problems it causes when you do stuff like that book, yeah that book, you all worship and buy from a professionally highlighted snake oil sales man you pretend is a good leader. A book so corrupt even that snakeysnake won’t touch it.

No one ever has the authority to alter the Torah for any purpose.  From Generation to Generation, yet bibles change with the person, really. I am gonna go with the Torah to get actual justice.

Sounds of bullets through the air

Blood of children on the ground

The war is you, your hate, your fear

In your head

You made up a reality to try and sell to us

But you don’t understand us

The spirits are all around you

Watching, listening…speaking

So, you now get to hear voices, you lil’ cuties!

What right do you know? What leadership do you deserve?

BOO

I know you see me

That you are a fan of mine from afar

You think about me, often

You are preparing me something

A siberian prison cell?

A palace on the Mediterranean?

A tomb?

A canopy of silk?

That is the weight I carry

The fast-life weary

Where everyone knows my name

But not my actual story

Just one they made up or saw on T.V.

Like Mike, even he likes it

And he is going to stop cheating on me with you

Ok, T.

I keep thinking about you, a lot. What you mean.

What you meant to me.

What I remember.

How I literally was willing to have you land on me instead of fall into a burning flame. How seeing you again made my life change entirely. Who are you to me?

And D. I saw you in the stair cleaner. I think I see you randomly. How you and J were the first people I smoked weed with and how we freaked out together in your car. Just collectively lost our shit. Because we needed to. We were all nervous but knew something bigger was happening.

J- Life was cruel, but you were worse.

P. I am sorry I played with your ideals so intensely. I never did anything with you, but you were the first guy I conscious masterbated and got off to, while we spoke on the phone in 7th grade. Ha! Yeah, you would have been a lot more to me. It is true, I sobbed in the car in front of my boyfriend because I wanted to be more to you always and never knew what to do about it.

G, I am starting to believe that the similarities in you are helping me to truly find love. My first terrible kiss. How you always spoke you anger towards me with your best friend as your voice, never you—like looking into my eyes while you were upset would destroy you entirely. You know, G, I appreciate that, actually.