We can NEVER win against the world. It's like a casino on a mind-boggling scale, the odds constantly and consistently weighted against us. We claim our victories in the mute flashes of our lifetimes. The sudden jingle of slot machines. The sound uplifts our sordid, lonely souls for enough the time it takes for us to fade into the mists of eternity, forgotten.

I think it's the greatest irony that those of us (and I speak categorically) who reject what we perceive as a 'system' and rebel eventually become systems ourselves. Only now we are systems of rejection, the scientific method. But we claim our bright moments of victory before we are trampled and forgotten.

Destruction is beautiful. It's a sordid, animal impulse. Tell me you've never experienced a moment of catharsis seeing a fallen tree, mangled by fire. It's as if the world for a moment became a voicing of the hatred that burns inside all humans. Or if the dust of our bodies for a brief moment felt the kinship of the oblivion that is our inevitable destiny.