022522

The multiple representations of the decaying social fabric slowly composed into physical monsters or at least appear to, are not scary. I do not fear ghosts or the dead, not because they don't move with us; they twitch and they crawl, they reach for my skin and my mind taking hold of what little is left of that modern pragmatic machine, ever so transformed by the vicissitudes of that new faith they so called logic.
I do not fear them because I am the monster, because when dark falls and I walk through it the only real sensation is that of the depressing screams of those who only managed to taste the everlasting sadness of pain.
Monster are you, who lives in this planet, who peels apples and brushes teeth
You that participated in the dynamic changes of the million atmospheres while inhaling the fumes of the synthetic society you so much desired.

Now the ghosts weep over the windows, desperately looking for the stolen joy of silent thousands.
Meanwhile, from the other side of the blue, the mirror was installed, was recognised and created recognition, within a few hours the ghosts were displaced once more just like the previous owners of the spirit; and the so called society transformed once more, this time both into one and trillions, into a mere fancy name for billions of living creatures trapped into eachself, displaced and forced out of the social and living only with the -ety. And so, once again, decay showed up to progress' house, and just like they did 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100, 110 and longer years ago, they sat and loved and lusted each other for modernity's progress with its pragmatic and logical focus is nothing more than the most successful lover of decay, whom never tasted such honours before science was made into law and insanity was made an exception.

For the world of doctors only exist because the world of patients was. For the world of monsters can only exist if the spirits were.