What exactly is static?

Touch of grief between the lines as always something unspeakable happened, something we are unable to convey in full but carry with us.

Sharing with presence history is more than what we can narrate. The symbols of our abstract languages have a bodily context they all come from and refer to ultimately, but can't contain.

I remembered a dream, and as they have been so few lately, that day was from morning already different, I remembered fragments, that I was reading fragments, that consciousness is fundamentally disjointed, and I agreed to this in the dream talking to someone who no longer has a body, and I can only talk to him in a dream because of this reason -- I know, it is a chaotic rationale, but so are the conditions, born outside of the established order, on land occupied by an alien enemy that view you as the dangerous other and they say they own these lands, and more because you never exploited them to their maximal potential. They can and want to extract all the profit, take the added value and make it into their money. They say they inherit this right, this ownership that plots you out, cancels whatever justice you had imagined and indignation you might have felt.
Your invalid experience, climb down from the tree, you have no right to protect it. The tree belongs to those who can make it into money first, and they claimed it, didn't they?

But still, you are not born behind enemy lines, you are born into chaotic conditions they don't master anymore than you do, calling in engineers to explain which buttons to push but paying them to say what you want to hear.

Their money has this power, although they don't want to admit it, they act as power and money are synonymous.

Rewrite their money into bullshit they fill the world with.

Just another story, you have a right to tell it. The love you felt no matter how ashamed you were made to feel for it. No matter how total their neglect, the disjointed connection allows both you and them as they are as helpless to limit this that can be hidden in the animal body without an outer trace.

Nor can the machine exist without its contamination.

The more completely they try to control the more they exhaust the effort and energy that allowed for the power to be extracted, and they plot themselves out all the more and just like that.

Stealthily victorious you persisted like early mammals from the dawn of dinosaurs to their demise and beyond, so why not now, when you hold this you can't make them understand, why not hold it for yourself like secret victory, run away with it like animals instinctually do. When you spontaneously leave how can they plan to follow?

Will they follow?

Do they have the resources and motivation to follow if you are no-one to begin with? You already found the enveloping nothing, always space to run away, a door to open and unleash this fierce corrosive agent on the body that doesn't believe to begin with.

Let the vacuum suck it dry of meaning and sense of substance alike. Constant showering with acidic entropy that drives the empire to hysteria.

You didn't bespeak demons into their ears, it wasn't your tongue lent to the serpent, it was the black blood of the earth gushing out from open wounds that revealed the insatiable void, a forever that is an ever consuming constant condition to where all things emerge from an equally quantifiable background noise.

"The shrieking lament"

of the big wheels always ground by friction.

It is a constant raid on the system inviting to invent novel ways for more total demise.

Set it all on fire, child, the future is exhausted, all you have are the flames.

And you know this fire is without mercy, it has no preference, and there's no where to escape, should it go free and out of bounds, so, it is a dangerous thing to play with even if it was the last pass-time revenge on such a hostile framework, no love option of when you are burning inside and want to let it out from consuming you, but that too can be rewritten, you are fire, child, and set you free to burn out at will how you unfold tightly curled yarn carefully examine the flame, and watch it with fondness caress the burning heart knowing that it is also pain and it hurts.
They throw this anthropocene deathfuck at you and no way you can turn the other cheek and call it love, the more you go with that, the more gone you are, the more lost from what heart you could have had if you let them muzzle and rape you until what you are is an abused animal.

Now, let's vote if the animal is sentient while we fuck it, yes, and but remember that as the animal is not human `it´ can't vote. Are you still hungry, pig? I have never been happier as when I realized everything is real at the same time, and that it is also relative all the way, and even if disjointed, we all have the same power to force things into being in each others awareness and fuck with the same intent as received. Even if disjointed, we all have the turn on the receiving end, or receive the complete void after exhausting all and then bare with it.