It is peculiar and fascinating to me that my fellows always seem to find the views of cities majestic and profound. Especially at night, from heights.

Strangely, I -always- had the -opposite- reaction. Although now, as an adult who has been exposed to cultural ‘richness’, I can creatively appreciate such atrocities as ‘photography’ and ‘landscapes’. Why do I use such a harsh word? Because those are dead artifacts. And they create dead artifacts… from what they become and depict. From what they do… to minds, children, and worlds.

All day, all night. Every moment.

Those look to me like towering cancers, invigorated momentously with the crying blood of victims. Children. Women. Nature. Futures.

At night? The lights? That everyone loves?

I saw them as beacons of rape. Because, you know, I knew… where all that power came from… and what it was serving… now and in the future.

And it is not serving us, as we imagine or declare. It is serving… something… that no one -within- human cultures can detect.

Something so malignant?

We have built -GODS- in our own image.

To insure it stays concealed, celebrated, and revered.

Lethal. Start to finish.