(no subject)
if i were to start a group. one involving bullhorns, guns, and homemade bombs. one with a hope to tear every living thing down into oblivion and make it forget there was ever a dark age, a god, a need for someone to tell you what to do...
if i were to run through your streets tossing molotov cocktails into police stations with a group of young men from the suburbs, unaware of what they really fought for, but moved with shocking speed and purpose nonetheless...
if i came to your home and asked you to join us. to give up your computer, your television, car, job, personal life, and family and join our cause...
if i told you that we could make a difference; we could fucking matter...
if i said i wanted, no needed you to make this a reality...
would you take my hand and race through empty streets; bottles blazing through the darkness?
would you affectionately call me "captain" and lay awake at night imagining new places to burn to the ground?
would you discuss the poetry of kurt vonnegut, emma goldman, kafka, camus, and create a symphony of racing hearts within the battalion of misdirected freedom fighters?
would you do something so blissfully insane that it could only produce the most joyful of lives; that any success, promotion, obedience, becomes unacceptable? so joyful, that to become what your parents always hoped would be an abomination of your living breathing soul.
would you like to make no sense with me?
would you like to burn everything down, and start again?
do over?
forget every "yes, sir" "yes, ma'am" and scream "fuck you all!" to an indifferent world?
you are invited.
every single one.
if i were to run through your streets tossing molotov cocktails into police stations with a group of young men from the suburbs, unaware of what they really fought for, but moved with shocking speed and purpose nonetheless...
if i came to your home and asked you to join us. to give up your computer, your television, car, job, personal life, and family and join our cause...
if i told you that we could make a difference; we could fucking matter...
if i said i wanted, no needed you to make this a reality...
would you take my hand and race through empty streets; bottles blazing through the darkness?
would you affectionately call me "captain" and lay awake at night imagining new places to burn to the ground?
would you discuss the poetry of kurt vonnegut, emma goldman, kafka, camus, and create a symphony of racing hearts within the battalion of misdirected freedom fighters?
would you do something so blissfully insane that it could only produce the most joyful of lives; that any success, promotion, obedience, becomes unacceptable? so joyful, that to become what your parents always hoped would be an abomination of your living breathing soul.
would you like to make no sense with me?
would you like to burn everything down, and start again?
do over?
forget every "yes, sir" "yes, ma'am" and scream "fuck you all!" to an indifferent world?
you are invited.
every single one.