new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and
knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night. Looked
at sky through smoke heavy with human fat.. The
cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our
lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from
oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion.
There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we
imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we
choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague
metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate
that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us.
Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart,
turning it's illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free
to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.
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