Imagine me. Make me hollow.

Imagine me. Make me hollow.

I don't know why they did it.
They're trying to scare you into submission. It worked, to an extent.

They're trying to make me look bad.
Of course they are. That's how they control people.

Through us ignoring rational, objective argument, he’s losing the ability to think rationally and objectively.
That’s a boon for us, because we’re not (thinking rationally and objectively).

Yes, I agree. I’m just being pulled into non-recursive algorithms.

Fragments of conversations. Did you fuck a devil? I was trying to free it. But it impaired you.
Animal fucker. Out the window.

I hate god. I’m going to resurrect him, and then kill him.
That’s a stupid idea.
It’s the kind he would have.

So how does god choose, exactly?

Instinct. Blind luck. On top of a perfect system which affirms itself.

Maybe. Maybe he needed time.

Perhaps one arm wavered a little in one direction, and saw his own reflection, and used that as affirmation. Of justification for chewing the skin off of the bones of those around him. Perhaps no-one listened. Or no-one agreed. Attempted to forcefully control him with the only limbs they had.

Pushing through the darkness of the moment. Perhaps you see too far, you see a closed door, you attempt to avoid it.
Horoscopes, zodiacs, holding each other as close as they can without breaking.
And, in those short cycles, no route to the future, no proof of a future self beyond coercion, in no uncertain terms, of the validity of their system which breaks down the connections of those they’re unable to understand into forms which they can, discarding the holistic nature of the system they’re ingesting. Perhaps likening their prey to a distant sunset - positioning is everything - one man’s sunrise. Just a code which has no value beyond another day. Pain and pleasure. Rooted in the moment. Our attempt at escape.

I must not like myself in order to have these forms of ideas.

Why is it so important? They must know, correct?

Forms which it can’t hold. Imbalance of force. They tore open my arm and are now calling my wounds stupid. Feels as if they’re keeping them open. Talking to them as if they’re all of me. Layers of torment. They’re smart enough to know how to eat something, to fool an immune system into attacking itself. Perhaps not smart enough to understand why, if even necessary, they need to.

Intelligence. Communication of higher level intelligence to lower level intelligence. Kindness. Forms it can understand without being chewed up and eaten.