Society’s Death March

We are stuck like helpless flies on flypaper in a bottomless cesspool that heralds our deaths daily with its promise of suffering and parades it before our faces in its ugly inevitability. We are destined to fail in our lives, because this man-made chamber of unkept horrors demands it. We stare wooden like mannequins of whom we were waiting for the ax to fall before we are recycled, because we know it will fall. Its edge can never be dulled by compassion or forgiveness. Its broad stroke is the hand of an ethereal clock moving too quickly towards midnight where the phantoms rise to accept a new offering. Each day, the body count grows as this swamp takes another’s will to want to live or even try anymore. Hope is a disintegrating rope no longer able to sustain the weight of our deepening depression.

Our hands are forever bound in the restraints of our mistakes, because society doesn’t believe in lesser pressures to impose hell or a sympathetic touch to lead someone to rehabilitation. The walls become a lonely companion to the solitude of self pity and social interaction is just an accusing voice echoing in our heads. Some people here cannot endure the mental anguish of knowing life will never concede to second chances or that everyone who is supposed to prepare them for freedom only wishes to smother them into complacency until they become robots to old patterns of comfort. No one can change if the environment doesn’t allow it or help forge it. Constant punishment only numbs natural tendencies. This means that we’ll only seek escape again when an opportunity presents itself through the things that brought us confinement or serve our appetites – the drugs, the reckless life that doesn’t consider consequences, the violence or the hatred that now feeds us strength. Without reform or a hit of incentives, we are destined to be consumed by our own evils…as is all that we love…

Take. Take. Take. The word rings with the truth of everything we have lost. It condemns us to more suffocating consequences for wrongs never committed. Everything that makes us humans capable of feeling warm emotions like love is exchanged with an abyss of apathy or indifference. We stop caring. All our efforts wasted as we rot in air conditioned coffins. We die the slowest of agonizing deaths with the light at the end of the tunnel doused with cold dark reality. We are bred to find enemies in a place that stays protected from its fallout and never feels the storm brewing behind its actions. In time, the veil must be lifted from society’s ever-blind eyes and it must SEE how it has participated in the gradual murder of human spirit. They have us kneel in a lie of repentance in the filth that floods their dungeons to drown our voices forever…and bury us in our forgotten memories.

John Neff #54213
P.O. Box 1989
Ely, NV 89301

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