He is Bugsey, He is diseases. He is individual and group Death. He is active. And he reappears as familiar.
Brain fart relinquishing control of the central nervous system to work existence he wishes to take over and exult in Indian Aryan Soviet Communist Totalitarian Death dance.
Better, “L’Chi-am.” Destiny. Fate and Eternity. Better, limited constitutional government to prevent voiding existence.
Of our Western Tradition, heritage, God, and to avoid ruling out Eternity. To prevent Bugsey dictating to us a bug’s life.
To Hell with this trillion-bug schizophrenia or disorder, away from the central nervous system!
To Hell with dance of death, assault, rape, creation of an re-appearing familiar form, chanting in the Church of Satan with the state that is not to have any affiliation with churches, in the first place!
To amphetamize himself into supposed superiority.
He mocks me. Slanders. Acts criminally against my existence in the hopes to diminutize my efforts for effective, constructive results that will bring this world back to a level of sanity that he despises. He is “speed work,” ultimate desperation in delusional commitment to our silent and apathetic demise.
His oppoid abuse hides his hatred of humanity and existence. Him thinking himself brilliant to foil the world to give up, living!
I stay my pen, and take a bath, knowing he will not rest, until all is dead! Better he go, us stay the course, us answer Destiny. Survive. Thrive.