Fearful symmetry,
RORSCHACH'S JOURNAL.
October 12th, 1985:
Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on
burst stomach.
This city is afraid of me.
I have seen its
true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of
blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the
vermin will drown.
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists
and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout
"SAVE US!"
And I'll look down, and whisper
"no."
They had a choice, all of them.
They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father,
or President Truman.
Decent men, who believed in a day's work for a
day's pay.
Instead they followed the droppings of
lechers and communists and didn't realise that the trail led
over a precipice until
it was too late.
Don't tell me they didn't have a choice.
Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those
liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers....
And all of a sudden,
Nobody can think of anything to say.