The Sound of Smog
The resonance of pollutants is strangely hypnotic.
It manages to keep entire nations integrated. Carpe diem with garbage. Trash binds us to the earth. Without garbage, we are nothing.
If we can't see it, we won't consider it real. Death is only tangible once it is staring down your throat. There is a strange obsession in humans marked by the need to conceal that which they cannot explain or justify. Incineration seemed the logical answer to prevent polluting our minds with the responsibility of disposing of our waste in a manner consistent with continuity.
There's nothing left or right to be declared regarding blasphemies committed against the earth goddess. The Great Spirit has observed humour in the crippled throes of our embattled race to destroy our enemies necessities. Imagining an infinite aquifer with which to irrigate, industrial indoctrination of spirit has instead made us understand that all resources are limited to the scope of unimaginative tyranny.
The low hum, barely audible above the mechanical backdrop of white noise we've accustomed ourselves to, acts as a pacifier through the induction of primitive, residual and esoteric dreams.
The vibrational frequencies exhibited by smog molecules are sufficient to initiate the chemical cascade of pituitary hormones required by the custodial authorites in order to maintain control of the populace. The liberation of endorphins aids in the expansion of the death squads which will be necessary to control the rebels once the New Order is martially declared global-wide.
As livestock we mill around in our pen, limited to the visible wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum, destroying eachother in order to gain control of a rapidly diminishing supply of necessary resources.
