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Rat Queen

The whole world is an asylum of the damned and I am irrevocably in it. Here comes the part of the story where our hero falls into the pit of writhing has-beens.

The diseased mindless legions clutching at my skin-tearing me to the ground-screaming their own wretched unfulfilled addictive needs into my ears until they become my own, until they consume me too-until I exhale flies and excrement beside them. All of us stifling ourselves in coccoons of greed. Greed for wealth, success, power. Eternal life.

We just want to be free-we want to gather 5,000 pounds of gold and glass gemstones around us and fly away out of here.

It seems even the fortunate trade one skin for another. Climbing the crumbling apartment building in hopes they can for once look down instead of up-only to find theirs a cage of another sort. Elevated in limbo and surrounded by the blind-even the people they love lose their sight-a great glassing over of eyes. Flesh to stone.

and you become their greed for escape. you become their new object. WHO YOU WERE dies and you are left with WHO THEY SAY YOU ARE.

we're all limbs in the same mass of endless confusion clutching whatever turns our eyes from the inevitable end.

and i am in it. and i just want to leave.

7:31 p.m. - 2004-05-24
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