chanting of the ever-circling skeletal family

Fractured visions of an open prison coming into focus, unsustainable materials to the expendable horizon.

…Worn fingers rattle the worn keys as a grey nothing sky has light drizzle fall over slate rooftops in an ‘unusually warm’ late October…

…/// The Minister for Information hangs disembowelled from a subsiding flagpole as gaunt workers are herded into pits, jet-washed with petrochemicals and set fire to.

The President is on the screen, dribbling and mangling his sordid words, his foetid maw undulating sickly between the pop-up advertising bubbles for additional content, fundamentalist Christian worship centres, arms expos and (your very own children being molested by ingrates).

Sacks of body parts are being unloaded from container ships as jaded shoppers are encouraged by halfwits in NBC suits with cattle prods to browse for white goods between the carcasses of refugee starvation victims.

Advertising space on the new border wall is going fast; hundreds of miles of pop princesses, beautiful alabaster white skin, baby blue eyes; just enough curves for the fat white rich rapists, just enough teen for the family values witch trial grand wizards’ ongoing abuse pageants. White bread privileged teens calmly loading assault rifles in their COD approach to small town high school blood bath under a beautiful spring morning sky.

Islamist fanatics greedily saw off the head of an embedded journalist under flickering generator lights in a Machiavellian tunnel complex, just hidden from the grasp of western intelligence agencies.

National Security computer mainframes loaded with sex tape revenge porn snuff jail cell execution double features and enough petty drug deals to sink the whole schooling system. Financiers writhing in bad debt print-outs folded into paper boats to float out into oil fields running tidal over native reservations.

‘…Our lord and saviour, Jesus Christ, dunked in a vat of urine by a homosexual…’

Greasy Hollywood mogul fingers stuffed into the mouths of disassociating rape victims. Hideous death dream of the one thousand year casting couch in flames. Left-wing protestors hosed in acids, beaten with clubs and violently arrested, as Klansmen march unhindered into the White House, shaking hands with the most sadistic reaches of Government.

Glass mirror towers to the heavens harbouring greedy, ruthless, white pieces of shit, sulking behind rosewood tables, idly fondling their secretaries, their tumours and their colostomy bags.

A series of photographs of the future Prime Minister gleefully fucking herself with the trotters of a dead pig, surrounded by her drunken school peers, egging her on, showering her in cocaine, while a cavalcade of poor and homeless types are boarded up into a derelict tower block, forced to starve and subsequently burnt to death…

…towers of asbestos insulation walling in flames///

Snapshots from the terminal field, broadcast via propaganda outlets, parading as fake news, acting under the auspices of shadow government agencies, operating behind fields of advertising agencies, marketeers and board room executives…

…all signs are pointing to a global scheme to make sure the rich outlive the poor. Bottom line beyond the bottom line. The workers will work and die at the factory. They can be directly reprocessed at the factory. This eliminates many costly steps in their exploitation.

Buy all of this garbage and believe all of this nonsense; whatever you want to think the agenda is, it is not.

Welcome to Annexia.

26th October 2017
London, England