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It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Trump; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning; struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about “imposture” and “static electricity”, Trump drave us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We sware to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and laughed at the queer faces we made.
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Jan 24, 2017 03:35
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| # ¿ May 16, 2024 20:45 |
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Have you heard the Bad News?
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Jan 26, 2017 08:33
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zeal posted:surrender your flesh looks like tzeetch, but i figure trump for a slaanesh guy myself
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Feb 2, 2017 17:43
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