Husk

Document found scrawled on the back of a poster nailed to the National Archive’s front doors two years after the corpse wars. We all lived in a time that discounted and dismissed The Dark. We didn’t believe in zombies or werewolves…vampire or deep-dwelling leviathan in trench. We depth-charged credit cards into chip-split, swipe and go rock slits sitting on countertop bomb-bay troves. We had become Leviathans albeit just a bunch of little ones tangled together inside phishing nets; snapping at each other’s eyes. You were flawed. You were wasted talent. Since you didn’t recognize the dark things, you drip-dripped into them. You fed everyday like the vampire consuming to fill petty-putt holes. Howling with lupine abandon into the mist to echo-locate and devour your deserving prey you jumped-bungee as your sports became ever more less-extreme than your previous heroes who fought in cages like savages and beasts. You thought you were cool. Yet in your day-to-day you were moist, unstable and grey as zombie clay. You were drywall patching spilled on base boards. You screen-saver stared for the majority of your lives as if stake-speared to swivel chair. You invented different sizes, shapes and types of screens to crystal ball gaze into. Your narcissistic-trap was generated and web-pinpoint-camera-sprung in 1080p for the world to see. Too bothered to even eat your legs off to escape your trappers you watched your children dressing in shadow wardrobe while plugged in eternal. Blood drink was data stream. When clicked on…they were About:blank. Their bites were gnat bytes. Their domains were domain nee names in name only with authentication problems. As resources, they were universally located in mist. They were Frankenfaced-file-sword-into-plow-sharers of .Com bubble popped vaporware who allowed the single cell to tower over network shingles. How does that make you feel? Such E-simple browser based windowed wareshoppers. Culture celebrated the darkness of things. Commercial murder was easily ingested as downloadable content. You faced down the downtrodden with minute deaths of a thousand micro-transactional cuts. You were auto deposited into slavery like Pharaoh dyke sandy pamby delta mounds and Action-conscripted by those who kept a hold on what had value and worth. You were barnacles, the filthy, sticky suction pads of bathmat bottoms in brothels, clinging to the undersides of galleons filled with slave-stacked cargo containers containing mostly packaging and air. You separated from the other as you distanced yourself from being distinguishable. You opened emails that said, “I am not that but I want that.” When you plugged in to avoid life…you annoyed life. Dangerous game, fucks. You became as Zombie by choice. I do not know what I am anymore. I have been so many things but I do know this – I am a Death-Dealer now. I see this life. I see your Undeaths and Alive/Deaths as if undressed by rapist. Your Semi-Deaths, Half-Deaths, Pretend Deaths and breath rattling dit de dit dot telepitaphing are visible now. Well, the Zombies are here now. Still want to be them? Still love them? Do you want to casually evaluate and rate them with online .GIF pixel stars? Most of you are them now…a must-see magnificent dream come true for you. However, now I walk amongst you all. A Death-Dealer coming to deliver death to all. I discriminate not at all between the undead, dead, alive or kind of alive. I erase the concepts of you all. If you are dead and walking; I will end this. If you are alive and wait-wailing; I will end your suffering. If you are dead and potent I will snatch the fucking threat out of you and leave you fallen, dry and dreamless. I will end everything in my path because I am not wasted talent. I am talented at ending the death life from you wasteful living dead. I do not want or need you. You are in my way. I walk past you as a Titan striding across the paved prairies of poking, peeking rebar fruit you planted that bend when the earth shifts as I pass along my way. You spread world-death with 12 point brushstrokes like logger-headed blindfolding plank walkers. I saw Death in your credit swipes. People shunned me righteous. Your mewling and moaning are my plug in eternal; Life’s soundtrack for fucking me to dance wild to by firelight. I see my shadows on the ground, scar-bark on trees, fireflies and their awe of all. I am not the boss or judge of you, I’d prefer you all just rot and fade but I am the end of you. I never played your game…never subscribed to your Death-Attitude. I got along to get along as you under-sofa cushion-curled up into safety balls. Your friends down there were chip bits, change, cock wrappers and fabric stains. No more. Your Death-life is my food. It sustains and validates me. I always knew about the decay in us all. You could say I saw God coming from a mile away. Well, the fortunate few see me fucking coming because I escaped The Pit and the Kaiser Man. That should impress you. I arose in Pride-Demand. Why didn’t you? Sure, I paid-to-play and attempted Isometrics. I was content to just popcorn watch the whole Horror Show because your Death-World was soggy ground for me to imprint footpath into. I am light. A bug light for you to blood-track and follow-path into pop blazing. Time to shoo, flies. You fire-lit flies and those of you too toe tag tethered to rotting husks to swat-dodge-avoid. It is time to manure-mold my model world out of yours into one more of my liking. Right? Right. This isn’t fantasy, Fucks. This is Ash-Risen, Pissed off-Death Walking and I am taking steps two at a time.