Musings

In this distortion, this bend of reality, beauty becomes that which we hate, and things so twisted and vile become the sought, where the rare are everywhere and the taboo are flaunted, we smile and turn a deaf ear. Where we pretend that in this we are normal, when the definition has become nothing more then a placebo to the weak willed and mindless. People cling to such things as though they were the precious oxygen, which has become a token gesture from the one you call God. The divine are used and abused to suit the purpose of destroying what you don’t like, and people who are considered holy, sweet, and good are the monsters under your bed. So therapeutic is it to swing your fists at your own spawn, everyone takes their shots. So wonderful it is to fill your veins with acidic poisons to escape the reality you yourself created, everyone tokes up and tunes out. So useless empathy has become, we are barley aware of one another.

And this is your definition of progression?