To The System

I am talking to you, System. Sit down, shut the fuck up and pay attention for once.

I fell in hate with you from the moment I saw you, which must’ve been the first day I entered a church or attended school. Bastard. From that very instant, you have denied me my individuality and tried every way to force me into a mold made for no one.

You have aimed to quell every attempt I made at happiness, telling me what you think I must do with my life. You’ve stamped me with numbers, codes and PINs. You have created false hopes and dreams, enslaved me with credit and burdened me with taxes that don’t do shit to help the poor, the weak and the unhealthy. Thief. You have robbed and plundered every single bit of wealth you could put your dirty claws on and you have spread the cancer of corruption and favoritism to every level of society.

You cower behind thick curtains of forms, laws, and regulations created to make it impossible for the People to understand what’s really going on. You suck on power like a vampire and cling to every bit of control in the name of social order. Liar. You command brigades of brainless despaired drones who only posses the tiniest fragments of information and power in a desolate circus called fragmentation which you created to ensure no one could ever question your legitimacy. And you have been insanely successful for years.

You have no care for the ones you are supposed to be working for. Criminal. You treat People with disdain and deny them any consideration, empathy or respect. You humiliate even the strongest with your unjustified questions and your hermetic language. You pry into my intimacy and give yourself the right to judge or qualify my actions while I have no say on yours.

You place People in lines like cattle and let them wait while overworked and irritated clerks shuffle through useless piles of papers in labyrinths of file cabinets until they get their hands on the next carbon-copy piece of shit that will justify the additional delay in treatment or supplementary fee to be paid.

You are like your buildings. Fat, bland, ugly and sick. You have grown out of any proportion, to the point of self-sufficiency. Even if no external input was ever added to you for the next 20 years, you would still function, unaffected. You have numbers and codes for everything, down to bathroom doors. You are ridiculous and laughable, stuck in the sclerosis of your own procedures and your dusty decorum.

One day, your cupidity will catch up on you. The compartmentalized bureaucracy you thought protects you will implode, cave in upon your bloated paralyzed self and crumble your pompous buildings down to pieces. I will be there on that day to shove your affidavits, your pro forma and your fucking rubber stamps down your limp throat until you choke.

And I’ll dance upon your ashes.