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After years of war, the last man standing is not man.

He—it, it is a body scarred; torn limbs, demented mind, and famished soul. It lost all sense and sensation on a battlefield, a battlefield choked by the slow, agonizing decomposition of monsters, once men, falling into the arms of its soil.

He—it, it regurgitated holy hymns of malevolent motives veiled beneath vile vengeance, savage slogans and speeches dubbed Nazi nationalism: YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU.

AN ABSTRACTION. What country? It is land and food and a few other things summed up in a nationality determined by genes and borders! What country! You are homeless and your “homeland” is nothing but an abstraction asphyxiated by stifling storms summoned by gods enraged their skies are not as blue as they like, their stars not as shiny as they like, their bank accounts not as full as they like. These gods scream into your ears deafening chants about homeland and honor and your ears fall off so you gorge their chants; the ravenous beasts you are rape any last chance, all hope, and, transmogrified, you are a soldier.


You march on blindly believing it’s your duty to fight, your country to fight for.

They sneer knowing it’s nothing but their sport, their cuntry to fuck.

Blood baths warm for their ambrosial whims and severed limbs roasted for their dinner specials.

No rains enough to cleanse the earth after the massacre. No sun enough to break the darkness of the night. The stars burn out in mourning.

It stands, mighty and proud, dripping black blood as its guts entangle and squirm and dry up.

The last man standing is not man. It is a ghost, broke the leash of sanity, fucked the virgin of humanity, wrecking, wrecking all.

The hearts drained, the soil drenched; Oh the orgy of gods, of monsters and men.