The Villain

By Red Ghetto Rebel

June 12, 2016

Lower Brule, S.D.

Reality is only as real as you are able to accept it. Truth is only as powerful as you are able to believe it. You are only as free as the weakness in your knees, once you fall to them for a sham or a lie you become nothing more than a burnt offering.
Pain like deformity is hereditary.
What does it take to see again in the darkened abyss of misery? Well… it isn’t laziness or sloth. It isn’t hate or violence or ravenous megalomania. The only “light” that can find you is your own hope not your illusion of hope.
When a person who wishes to sit at the throne of disparity makes you a promise don’t believe it. If that person cries the tears of lies don’t wipe them. If this person laughs at your pain don’t laugh with them. They feed your insecurity with poisoned security flicking their tongue upon your face in the insatiable hope that you will believe their lie.
Elected councils are like this and you know this, they are nothing more than a hopeless group of scandalous collaborators bereft of merit who hide their faces behind their colorless play doe masks of inequity and stupidity, constantly reforming this expressionless deformity to keep it from dripping off their faces under the burning sunlight of sovereignty. By any means necessary their truth cannot be exposed.
They had their soapbox handed to them by the drugged and drunken addicts that slither through the cracks of the community. These discombobulated representatives represent all that is wrong with any corrupted society, a microcosm of a greater worldly verity.
Their campaigns consist of offerings of alcohol and drugs that they leave on this alter of subjection. Feeding political obesity with the soup of purgatory while pleading for admonishment from the ravenous addicts who gorge themselves at this alter on the ashy remains of a heritage and history long lost on pews of the unholy assimilator.
With their pointed beaks they scratch their votes into the cracked soiled oppression of reservation dementia.
But isn’t this the true campaign of poverty? Isn’t this the herald of depression? When born on the ship of subjugation isn’t the ocean of freedom the enemy? Isn’t the culture of violence the creation of the immaculate deception? When the master of deceit tells you that underneath the calm waters there live creatures ready to devour your liberty, do you abandon hope for conformity? What is a reservation if it isn’t a hopeless cult?
There are those who crave attention, media whores who prostitute culture for self-worship. They only exist to rub themselves down with the soot of lies and denial. They protest mediocrity to hide their unholy truth. Who is the true snake if it is not the liar who licks the venom from their teeth after they spit their inferiority upon your brow to blind you from truth? We see them trying to shove their villainous rendered fat down the throats of others. Choking out their opinion and their faith.
Obscurity is a form of pain and in this opaque actuality the terminally tormented use violence to rip at the womb of insecurity at the expense of others. They create a cause to revolt against when in fact, through their own hidden secrets, they commit their own infanticide.
It is easy to blame those in front of you when your own cruelty stands behind you. Of all inhumanity the contemptible hand of the protester is the filthiest when it is anointed by the wretched hypocrisy of the irresponsible. Thou doth protest too much.
You can see the true villains by their gluttonous temperament. Feeding off the oil and the deep fried fanaticism of denial and lies. Criminally insane, they stir the pot of gossip and hatred for the feed.
It is said that the truth will set you free, I believe this wholeheartedly but under today’s circumstances, truth can only be painted with the brush of brutal honesty.
Even now your own canvas absorbs this color and embraces it uncontrollably in the way a snake searches for the warmth of sunlight, even now you can see these images haunting your blocked memories and forgotten post traumatic reservation nightmares. The characters already exist in your mind. You just needed the storyline.
Sitting there with that same old exclamation mark floating above your head won’t resolve the truth within you and denial of it is just adding another nail into the flesh of your god’s son.
The villain is the insanity of all. The denial of truth is its comfort. Its residue infects the air you breathe. When you open your mouth this denial rolls down your chin, though you wipe it a thousand times its acid scared your face. Now you know why the mask of deceit exists.
Corruption doesn’t have a beginning it recycles. It starts with lust and ends with lust. Immersed in the teachings of abuse, raised on the bread of neglect. Inevitably you gave birth to it and truth be told you raised this corruption by the strap and backhand of neglect.
Little did you know the villain was you all along.

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