Words.

The words are tired, are misused; absorption in idealized cliché. What is said has been said one thousand times over, but it is no longer being said with sincerity, with heart, with hope. The words are infertile, and I find no meaning in repetition. Even though I am repeating as such now. But a new form, new books, must be put down. We can neither alter or change history, it is already written. The cause of mankind will be the same, this world and the next. For it is us that have raped, that have pillaged, that have murdered. We are the reapers of the world. The outlying, ever wandering battle of man and soul, man and spirit. We are corrupted, and we can not, we must not blame, we have only ourselves to blame. Why the world has turned to shit, it is because we have made it that way, and we are the cause of our own alienations. We have simplified life and made a means to an end, for we have become our own God. For we have allowed ourselves to obtain absolute control, which in turn, has ceased the individual in man, and has torn him to shreds. Man once was a tree, alive and healthy, in a forest ripe with fruit, ripe with life. But Man itself has ceased his tree, reducing himself to paper scraps. For an individual is and can no longer be, under the scrutiny of man, for we have become our own God, and have turned away from the world. The mass of our thoughts, our intellect is continually growing, increasing. That itself is reducing the state, the quality of the world. The bigger, more expansive our brains, our minds have become, the smaller the world becomes, leaving nothing for exploration, for we have seen it all, have combatted it, and have killed it. The more we are, the more we are becoming, the more shit that we are in. And the words are the same, for we have already written them. Talks, scriptures, ideals of a revolution, of something that can outlast Man has already been written. For we have created it. And the utter confusion we have created for ourselves. We cannot open our mouths to speak honestly, for the reason is that we have already lied to ourselves; proclamations, decrees, advances. It can not continue, and it furthers, it justifies itself as a lie, as disaster, as cliché. We cannot change the state of things, for first, we must realize we have already destroyed ourselves. We destroyed the world, and a new pattern is not written in our character, for we cannot cheat ourselves and proclaim that revolution is possible, nor is there no starting point, for we are the reapers, the manglers of mankind, and our race has been overdone. I'm tired of cliché words, ideas, that every philosopher has already theorized. We cannot theorize more, we cannot find harmony, because we are the destructors of our race, and we have killed the self in all of us. Transformation will never reach us, for it is we that are the reapers...