I shall consume my soul that strives for the modern society of death. My intellectual captors have consumed what has been excreted from my system as part of a ritual. The beneficial crusaders have shattered my every bone and left me to die. I let the metaphorical sun beat down upon my face. I say the sun is metaphorical because there is no sun in this dark prison cell, and the only thing beating down upon my face was the eather whip by which my captors physically harm me with. I am lying in a pool of my own blood as i watch my soul extract itself from my physical body. I am no longer of this earth but one with the higher authority. I see the light... I now know I am not to suffer, for my soul is not with earth no longer. I am immoral within the afterlife. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices as I lay down and die for they know what sins i have caused over my lifetime. They rejoice as my flesh becomes one with the earths crust... however there is a pressure that is retracting me from the light... I fear that my lifeless flesh is struggling with death and is restoring life within me.... with this I shall suffer more than ever before. My captors think that I am dead, but I am not. I am lying in a pool of my own flesh and blood. my legs are but a bloody pulp. i am within your soul, as your soul is within mine. We are one, but we're not the same... I cannot revolve around the earth as the earth has revolved around the sun for countless years. The numeric order of suppository coalitions has never occurred to my intelligence. Dare I support you in your struggle, as the pain you have caused me is beyond the believe of an experienced simpleton, even though they have the metaphorical power of jesus christ. As I languish upon the rooms you built to file me in, I realize that you are not one with me. I am one with you, however. A paradox imposes between this relationship of ours. We cannot cease our existence, as the only way to cease our existence is to have our existence cease us. I was born into this world, and I must be born out of this world. I am not of death; I am of rebirth. I shall experience rebirth in the higher nation beyond human civilization. For my crimes I have suffered, by which my captors have not yet conceived of yet. I cannot begin to process the precision of humanitarianism within today's modern intellectual society of hope, peace, love and dreams. My sentence for birth is death, and death, is the sentence for my birth. I am deteriorating.
Lui qui craint d'être conquis est voue a la defaite.