A story about sweet cosmic vengeance that follows a trail…

Relentless quests for oil.

Border management “defends culture” from the people seeking asylum in countries that ratified [inconsequential] international treaties, supported by their capitalistically pacified or algorithmically manoeuvred citizenry with the aid of propaganda media apparatuses.

Death and displacement is intellectualised as justifiable, profit centres predisposed to public policy and culpability of war crimes is “tolerable” collateral damage.

Robes, wigs and suits spin definitions to conceal the selectiveness of justice and distract from their lobbied corporate doctrinist capture, continuing to propound the mirage — the [ritualistic] “effectiveness” of the rules-based order — institutionalised civility — defunct.

Families set to sea for safer shores, only to drown at the hands of compartmentalised and compliant but corrupt “civil” servants — vacant and banal to their complicit evil. The compromise of these living [dead] is cosmic.

The bottom feeders of our oceans — the lobsters, crabs and prawns — feast, unbiased, for their sustenance, on the [dead] dead stateless corpses.

Central banks print the next collusive greasing — propagated through the sole surviving monopoly — violence. Sixty three fiat-denominated coercions — oil for war — and “war for peace” where supremacy of dominion, authoritative and unchallenged or democratic and bedazzled, is the unwritten [but implicit] measure of international settlement success.

It’s busine$$ as usual — same boring old news — demise is distanced “safely” as entertainment — counting on compassion fatigue and embedding futility. Opulence confused for sophistication. Psychopathy rebranded as enlightened. The inferior parading as superior. Mindless of their own mediocrity, dining ever so finely, unbiased, on the displaced and dead fruits of their “deep state” terrorism-as-a-service labour — immersive, unrestrained, multi-sensory menus of — lobsters, crabs and prawns.

See. Food. Full circle.

Until…