HK Blog

Everything feels like a product because everything is a product. People are merchandise. Personality is marketing. Nobody is human anymore. You're lucky if you can take advantage of the slavery. Some get lucky to just be an accessory. A Dixie. The Confederate States of America. There are Confederates in every nation in the world. It's got nothing to do with Hitler. Fascism persists because it's fun. People love to kill. People love to see heads explode. It's not chic to be a person. We have to kill you eventually. Maybe it will be fun when it's you. We'd only be so lucky to have our history. Watergate and Equifax, Panama Papers and Mueller Reports. Epstein files, whatever. It's always been available to us the facts of the matter. What good is information in a society that doesn't read? You start to understand the cynicism, the vulgar conceit of the Leninists. You can't wait for everyone to make it happen. The burden of the community minded, the prole...

The black ichors of my being trickle through the crags of the summit, dripping into the quarry below. The dark liquid of emotion glazes the rind of an ethereal stone, humming with the sickly melodies of heartbreak. Doldrums, doldrums, I sit aside the water and see my reflection. Spongebob... I need you to buy a gun. And I need you to kill me. I'm getting tired of this. Oh, my days. But, it's okay. Its okay. By "this," I mean the ever shifting sands of a talking stage. I'm tired, boss. The stale air. Mother Gaea's geomancy pulls us closer to the mantle. The sexual austerity of the plains whistles against the tall grasses. A voice heard in the weak winds of winter... Re'em... Re'em But! Here's the thing. She did not do anything wrong. In fact, I'm certain I'm at fault for misreading messages, right? Right? Idk man.  It's like an on-off switch is flipped with this sort of thing. I wish her her well, but like HOWWW did she take the progres...