I will be done with my displays. There is protection from nearly everything... But there is no protection from mankind.
How grim it always is, one’s detonation, how time speeds up to win its prolongation. Upon life’s outcry time does increase speed, prolongs the very second when you burst. How terror blasts inward, how horror blasts outward. How grim it always is, one’s detonation.
My last act has the meaning of protesting against the evil that we adults are preparing for the innocent new generations to come. We live our lives eating their flesh. An evil abyss in its horror. My sorrow for this crime kills me.