Led by a coward

Sometimes, things just have to happen. You do not have a say in it. They have to happen. As painful and as disconcerting and scary as each step may be, your on auto-pilot.

Once things have been pushed so far... you do not have control over the decisions that are made. Sometimes, no matter what anyone says, you don’t have a choice.

The sky burnt red over the smog filled, soul crushing city as the black smoke rose from a car fire. Lit by one of the confused punks who believed that a few fires would do anything except earn the wrath of the police. The message was clear but no one was listening. A group of young, testosterone junkies yelling into the wind and the wind does not respect fools.

He sit watching the skyline slowly turn black as rubber tires burnt 50 stories below. The revolution was as hollow and empty as his heart. The messiah was as fake as the message he broadcast and if the populace had realised, he would have been exiled to some menial task in an cubical farm office where no one would have noticed him or heard a word he had to say.

Roaming, leather clad punks scurried back and forth like rats in the streets that ran like spider veins. Car alarms, breaking windows and the roaring of fireballs filled the evening air. The noise that grated his ears was replaced with the anarchy he craved but the taste was just as bitter as the fruits he was forced to eat before the “revolution”.

Across the tarmac, from the 52^nd floor, a desk was hurled from the window, spewing glass and papers down to the concrete below, the desk turning weightless for a fleeting second before gravity turned its vulgar gaze in its direction and sent it hurtling downward.

Police fired handguns at the rapidly approaching crowd but with each fallen cell the organism grew louder, stronger and very, very angry. The beast could not be killed so easily, as the policemen turned to run, the mob gained speed and without effort the few policemen brave enough to face the storm were tackled, beaten, robbed of their weapons and power and devoured.

This would be all for nothing in time, power is never lost for long.

He watched the massing from safety, not wanting to get his hands dirty. Always a coward. He watched the streets turn from grey to throbbing black as the movement swelled, heaved and shouted as one unintelligible breast. Meaningless, inarticulate shouting that signified nothing and would be forgotten as soon as the last syllable was exhaled.

Shouts of liberal, leftist rubbish replaced the alarms as the masses found a voice. Condemning the “fascist, right wing lackeys” all the while and unknowingly imitating them. The thrill of the barbarian, always just underneath the skin, pulled into life by a few well chosen words but destined to fail.

From a right hand corner a squad of green dressed solders rushed into position, assault rifles raised, waiting for the final command to quash the rebellion. As the black animal mass rushed towards them a volley of small, brass covered lead bullets erupted from the 15 barrels simultaneously. The first wave of grunts hit the pavement and slowly, the hot, dark blood leaked onto the sun warmed tarmac.

Another and another and another volley, more and more of his disciples fell. The coward watched as more and more foolish young bodies lined the street. The realisation of the futility of their efforts started to ring in their ears with the echoes of the gunfire and the mob ran down alleys and side streets as the hard faced, determined squad ended the lives of the few stragglers, desperate to get away from their executioners.

The consequences of every act, are contained in the act itself.

A helicopter swooped overhead, looking for the few who still held corruption and dissension in their hearts. The coward hid behind an air conditioning unit. The foul smell of recycled dust and stale air filled his nostrils as a neon white spotlight illuminated his hiding spot. Fear and panic filled his heart and to his surprise a hot stream of urine filled his lap.

Tears of panic welled and shot from his eyes like a geyser and he started weeping uncontrollably. Soon there was the tramp of steel-toed boots emanating from the fire escape as a squad of black uniformed, faceless police burst through the fire escape and surrounded the pathetic, cowardly “saviour”.

He was lifted by his neck and lead to the ledge of the building, held by neck, leg and arm he was made to see the extent of his doing. The dead bodies laying motionless in pools of black blood, the burning store fronts and cars, the shimmering pieces of broken glass, the smoke rising like ladders to the sky.

He cried. He cried and cried and cried, he cried from fear, from panic, from not knowing what the officers would do next. But not for what he had done, for what he had caused, for the lives his actions, words and deeds had taken.

He was thrown back onto the tiles of the roof and a black cotton bag was thrust over his head while his hands and feet were Flexi-cuffed. He was carried away as the final gunshots echoed from the street below...

Tom Waits - Come On Up To The House

Well the moon is broken
And the sky is cracked
Come on up to the house
The only things that you can see
Is all that you lack
Come on up to the house

All your cryin don't do no good
Come on up to the house
Come down off the cross
We can use the wood
Come on up to the house

Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house
The world is not my home
I'm just a passin thru
Come on up to the house

There's no light in the tunnel
No irons in the fire
Come on up to the house
And your singin lead soprano
In a junkman's choir
You gotta come on up to the house

Does life seem nasty, brutish and short
Come on up to the house
The seas are stormy
And you can't find no port
Come on up to the house
There's nothin in the world

Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house
The world is not my home
I'm just a passin thru
Come on up to the house

There's nothin in the world
that you can do
you gotta come on up to the house
and you been whipped by the forces
that are inside you
come on up to the house
well you're high on top
of your mountain of woe
come on up to the house
well you know you should surrender
but you can't let go
you gotta come on up to the house

Come on up to the house
Come on up to the house
The world is not my home
I'm just a passin thru
Come on up to the house

How Life Turns To Shit - Intermission

As I have found, 12 months and 11 days later, nothing has changed for me. I'm still the monster I always was. I don’t know if I will ever change, I don’t see much hope for the future.  I look in the mirror and still loath what I am and what I’ve become.

I blame myself for everything that’s happened; I don’t blame my “illness”, I still have enough control over my faculties to know the difference. If I really am out of control and if I really have lost control over myself, I don’t see how it’s possible for me to come back.  Because that means I don’t have control over my mind and my brain as opposed to the illusion that I still have control over my intelligence.

I feel defeated by everything. No matter what I try to create or do or make or even say is pathetic and shit. The only reason I am putting fingers to keyboard now is because I don’t know what else to do before my counselling session. My stupidity has resulted in my family joining me in today’s session. I know why they have to but it will be next to impossible to hear what they need to say without it feeling like an indictment of my failings and proof that I am the worst person alive.

If I really have lost control of everything, how can I make the decision to come back to who I used to be? How do I regain control over myself? If I have lost my intellect how can I put myself back together? How can I know what to do? How can I change if I don’t have the brain function to do it?

Am I too far gone to come back? Will I always be this monster that I am now?  What can I do?

Who am I really?

What am I?

How can I be strong enough to fix anything when I feel so weak?

The world is so dark; do I really stand a chance?