It is haunting and so full of zeitgeist that it breeches
the confines of civilized society. I fornicate with this name to breed
armies of malcontents that can tell you directly "I hate you" and I don't have to feel guilty. Callousness is a remnent of the past perfection I used to be. I used to say fuck you to the people that pissed me off. Oh not now. Now I want to be liked and they still march iver me, heard of elephants that tell me friends do this for eachother. Now I've shifted down the dictionary to callow - a coward so old that "poltroon" is the apt descriptor. I hate you for this, for changing me and receding from me with laughter. You have stolen the balance I felt. I was emotionless, an overintellectualized powerhouse oblivious to humanity. I functioned with the clean precision of machines, a Babbage engine of humanity. My autonomous cyberpunk destiny has been short curcuited. Hear is some fucking emotion: You are the broken one, the one that doesn't speak unveiled English. You don't take to a stage when beckoned, an encore demanded. Why don't you fucking react? Are your emotions as staggaring as what I feel now that you forsake an open, hoping audience? O'Neil - his God play - is cring because you are not acting - emoting properly. Writers have given. But withholding is what America is. Unilateral choices where we all lose. America, land of express opportunities is angry because you cannot be what you are making me.