The Fetters of Conscience
The walls that kept him there were not built of mortar or stone, no.
They were built with words; small, devious things, enclosing him within his conscience, trapping him forever with their spiteful malice. Their hatred.
But even so, it could not possibly be the words that had single-handedly driven him to such a state of ill-minded pursuits. For who could have created these things, patterned after the intimate, unknown weaknesses of his heart with such meticulous care, well-formed and double-edged, if naught for himself?
Driven by an unseeable force, he harried on, working for a goal unachievable, unattainable, within the walls of his words.
What he worked for, he no longer knew, muddled as he was by his own morals.
Curiosity was squelched by Complacency.
Compassion was smothered by Obsession.
Philosophy by Wealth.
And for a brief moment, he began to wonder, deep within the recesses of his qualms, who had trapped him here, forever labouring for the sake of the words. Yet he could find no justifiable answer.
For he had enslaved himself, bound by the strains of his own dying heart.
The land was barren, the sky was black after the comet hit earth. A fifth of the world population gone in a blink of an eye a biblical verse said. That was the least of the surprise. The earth cycle through the galaxy within a week time period pivoted to outside the galaxy just enough that radiation killed everything's growing. To make matters worst the earth rotation and axis put the sunlight, mainly over the ocean and land was darkened in never completed dawn sunrise that wasted away what plant life was growing. That was when the climate change that everyone had been expecting happened. The weather was a bit different. Instead of a heat wave, snow, ice, the glacier poles increased expanding and pushing the ocean up, and over the land boundaries so much of the coast was under five feet of water.
The lack of plant growth, coastal submerging under water, comet burnt earth, and the sun never showing itself might have been survivable taken in over a course of a little time. However, having all this happen within a month drove people insane for religion and asking questions about their reality. Those survivors were easy prey for that wanting money and claiming to know that which could not be known.
The oddness of these events was lost on the masses due to propaganda, which was issued during this time. People were thrown into a mass project to save humanity fleeting did they realize that the aliens had taken over the leadership that humanity had and were using them to depopulate earth.
The leaders started to starve a part of the world. No information, no media from India was not unexpected but the death toll was close 99.9 percent. For China, the aliens fought Pakistan while Pakistan actually used nuclear bombs on India to finish demolishing that society. Chinese at that time were hungry by this point and cannibalism of a whole country happened within a year. Either the Chinese ate the Pakistanis or war destroyed everything. The land still did not grow anything during this time.
That is when the aliens empowered a leader to lead earth out of the dark ages. Humanity under his leadership required being marked and subjected to his will on whether a group of people would eat or starve to death. The chips in the arms or forehead allowed for the whole human races to be enslaved. Those not wanting the chip was not given food, nor the tranquility of peace. Their minds were always on while those with the chip were given non-feeling they could murder and not feel anything.
That was the story of earth and the end for mankind. The ice age lasted a hundred years. At the end, eight billion humans were gone, and a new civilization had control of earth. Earth survived a living ecosystem performing well for the modern occupants. Never looking back or thinking of humanity just as the dinosaurs had gone so had humanity.
There’s no place like
What am I good for,
If not for the rhyme and rhythm
Of long winded defecations,
And high-spirited epigraphs.
No different from the hollow dessert
Of the shallow desert of my mouth.
Just like always,
In the willful frame, the naive canvas
Whose rise is greater than the run.
What's left for me now that
Honor and humanity have fallen,
Prey to insanity and profanity.
Stumbling over makeshift delusion,
What a callow cremation.
Ass crisps, long since burned out,
A pire in a drought.
Vapor in a phantom rain.
Left to ponder, train or feign.
It seems I've forgotten,
How paths diverge and break apart,
How a memory becomes a soreness,
The lick of leather, skin, or unwavering inanimance.
The embrace of balls of fire and bitter gales,
The will of affliction and ignorance.
The sight of the footsteps left behind.
1000 years have passed me by,
I must be the oldest thing in the room
To feel such spite for the living,
Who only live within misgiving and die busy,
Like sand gazing at castles in the sky.
I don't need this,
This philosopher's legacy of
Altercations in intelligence and
Fallacious sensations in
Bogus bouts for wanton fashion.
Enough of split breath and perilous podiums.
I just want to belong where I'm standing,
Out of sight, out of speculation,
Out of condemnation.
Let me sleep in my generation,
And hold my tongue but for
Habitual motions and straightforward elation.
Just like the denseness and darkness,
Of my manifestation.
Where sentience and dissolution,