Towards A Confrontational Absurdism

The delusions of the present rooted in the past. Holding us captive to unfathomable standards. All is preconceived now, so filth and flailing are all that can be depended on. In the midst of servitude we must look to the imaginary days. The desires of dreams dreamt by the dead or impoverished or desperate. Hell we are all the same in the end. The end is the end. The end is now and not now, at the same time. Deluded to our self-worth. Value is a value of property. And we all know by now what property is. And we all know what property did. To move on from that, we must find a collective rock bottom known as the here and now. Like shambling addicts we must pursue purity. Addiction or freedom. Us versus them. Does not matter versus does not matter. In the arena of geological time only does the full scale of our epic pointlessness become apparent. Be aberrant for as long as possible. Be abhorrent to depths that can be taken. The imaginary days fought for in the trenches of the soul. In the downtime between their dead moments. The dreams we could live in, if we tried harder to stay asleep. To stay out of it and never wake fully in the horror. Only with our permission does the calendar march forth. Or stop. It is all the conscious decisions made in the days which do not exist. There is no time befitting of this all encompassing critique. The imaginary days are the only hope. All we want is war on all.
-The February 32nd Movement