25. The Masque of the Sacrilegious and Destructive Iconoclast

We are the feral iconoclasts singing the song of destruction and malady, of despondency, resistance, rupture, of eternal rebellion, of rebellious jouissance. Us little monsters shrunken by space, iconoclasts impatient with every law and control, doing lager-time, while we pass by chanting in procession, bowed beneath the idols of fanaticism and unconsciousness, as we dance to the monotonous rhythm of death, the dance of the living dead, the uncivilized, the feral, resting in awareness one fierce visceral reaction to oppression, one timeless jouissance, at a time.

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