i'm in the moment, but the moment is all fucked up, and i want to get out, but i can't, none of us can, try as we may. techno prisoners, gnome sane. all i can do is jump in the lake and soak my head. the world's made of particles, and time moments, crowding, colliding,  frantic, terrorized in the same waste fraught place. the system is nothing but the war, the war nothing but killing for power and wealth, and war, and no matter how they sell it, it ain't natural, it's the death of nature, and it'll be the death of us. the animals we're killing off would have died of ignorance and hubris long since if they were like us, with our idiotic survival of the fittest nonsense. the fit are dying by our hate, stupidity and avarice, our heartless destruction, our ruthless exploitation, our greedy sick nihilistic wars. the moment, which is all encompassing, is strife, this american strife. in englewood, so the world.