Meet Ira, my Darkside.

{#satire #darkside #prose #morbidhumor-ish ... wouldn't let me # for some reason but I felt it necessary.}

We all have one, even those who've never met theirs, or felt it take over their body and mind, yet it's there all the same; the capacity for evil. I've been in a shit mood since this morning, more things out of my control, making me feel useless and inconsequential. More inconsiderate people making me want to give into the darkness and forego the woes of my compassion.

I hate on myself because I know I can't/won't kill myself... but I'm not so certain I could stop myself if I unleashed my Darkside, given the name Ira when I was about fifteen. So without further adieu; Ladies and Gents, Meet Ira, my Darkside.

Dark is as dark does you self-loathing cocksucker. Oh wait, you couldn't even do that right could you?

You know what happened then and we're not talking about me. This is your chance to post/publish all the crap you spindle into my brain like a devil on my shoulder. So spill.

I would have about twenty words ago, but you kept typing and we both can't type at the same time you fat-fingering fuckless fucker. I guess I've gotten so used to focusing on you I just can't help myself. You want me to spill

I do.

so I will. I'd kill every single half-sack-son-of-a-bitch who gave us an opportunity if you'd let me. Your mother first, fat fucking victim-bitch who couldn't get past her own childhood trauma to prevent you and yours from having some of your own... Her I would have killed slow, bled her out like a stuck pig while she was hopped up on pain meds and made it look like a suicide. Then I'd have controlled your father with his own anger and made him my bitch for fear of the monster we'd become.

Oh and that little cunt on the school-bus in highschool? You shouldn't have warned your mother, you should have hole-punched her in the neck with a fork and painted the bus red like we said we would. You where a minor then and could have easily played the insanity card. I mean, good intentions or not you did beat a tick riddled possum to death and toss it in the woods behind your house, plucked the head off your broken-winged parakeet like a grape from the vine, the female King Snake--

We're not talking about me remember?

But you're my favorite subject matter. I don't understand why you hold us back. This compassion thing is a racket, it only brings you more misery to feed me. You're heart wills you to help your family but I'd kill them all for hindering your evolution. Stop. Or what? I'll delete this whole post.

Fuck you. Fine. I'll tell them, that while you drive and mutter weak comments like "I'll ram this Oldsmobile up your ass" I plot how hard to push the gas to hit the corner of their bumper just right so they'll spiral into the nearest power-pole-- hoping they don't die so they live the rest of their life suffering and laying blame for their own ass-holishness.

Or what about your Grandmother? How many times could we have pushed her down the stairs and given her something to complain about? You're just being childish. Oh, you want me to expose our thoughts your thoughts Ours sugar, I'm a part of you remember...

Nothing?

Ha.

We see the way people treat people and we see how the ruling class treats the lower classes, the way the world runs on such a fragile system of money and we often think we people deserve every bit of suffering we get. We want to embrace that suffering and explore human limitations. We want to experiment on people the way they experiment on animals. We want to watch some of them burn, helpless to stop it, helpless but to watch in a mirror as their own flesh melts off their bones.

Pump them full of designer drugs, alcohol, and sugar until their systems shut down. Drown them in food coloring and preservatives by the thousands. Electrocute them with their profit geared technology in the millions. Force them to eat the fashions they fawn over.

We want to kill a billion strangers and see what parts of humanity show through because I believe it will bring more death, destruction, cunning enslavement and all out misery to marinade the happiness until it sours. Rem on the other hand holds out hope such an event would unite people in compassion-- false hope because such numbers would only unite them against a common enemy.

Fear and doubt are powerful tools to render the human psyche into playdough.

9-11, a brilliant display of misdirection and manipulation to bend a nation to the will of money. War is a business like any other and with me at the reigns we would make enough to play our own war-games with the lives of so-called innocence. Hm. Children perhaps, like dogs, are just products of their keepers. Then again, any child already imprinted with the foul behaviors of their keepers would be just as tainted, like the monkeys in a cage.. second generation offspring following the culture of it's elders, even to beat another monkey to death for climbing a ladder without permission, without ever knowing why.

.. So ultimately, I'd kill them all, save us. We might miss humanity but it's already left so much to remember it by.

Wait, why do we get to live?

I think with the use of some machinery  we could build little mountains of bodies and watch them burn for days like the devastating asteroids they are. If we die too, this tribute to the cosmos can't happen.

Right.. well, in short ... there you have it.

|| another_proser ||