Golem

The Body Politic

A hollow scarecrow paraded through the void by the self-forsaken, always longing to be part of something greater than themselves, enmeshed in a mutual caricaturisation campaign with their ideological opponents, each seeking to demoralize the other into absolute submission, to kneel before their brand of perceived collective wisdom. Forever.

In the shadow of the valley of willful retardation and codependence, they fight for their limitations as copies of copies, sugar-frosted cookie-cutter dopamine friends and toy soldiers.

Whether this is a parade or a funeral, or both, communication is reduced to the empty mystique of propaganda for the lowest common denominator.

The golem is on some kind of trajectory, although it’s hard to tell if the dummy wheel is driven by the socially engineered mass or if it’s grinding them to a pulp.

Still, in the intoxicating celebration of their liberation from themselves, they become gray. Gray is for the comforting euthanasia of virtual existence and self-imposed tyranny, to release you from the inconvenience of the natural world and from your body, to experience the simulated freedom in the advertised technotopia, at least until it fucks up. 

What does the golem want? They want you to erase yourself before them to experience the sense of completing the circuit of their self-righteousness, to justify their self-abandonment, otherwise they are each left alone to confront this self they have attempted to murder and to the ideologically driven collectivist, this may leave them writhing on the ground in spasms of existential crisis, unless one amongst them were to find a portal of self-awareness to step through the myopic hysteria, forgive themself for the illusions of the times that they have bought into, and remember who this individual can be, in this space and time. 

As a force of nature, through imagination, will, and conviction, who you are in relation to the cookie-cutter friends and their golem is for you to decide, whether it be blind submission on one hand, resentment on the other, or to accept the role of the creator that sees this shit for what it is and would rather dive directly into this void that they wallow so mindlessly in and create your own path.