I guess it’s not healthy to hold all the power in the world within a head, just to lazily circumvent the need to match up expectations with what’s happening. Instead I find myself dreaming again of Vladimir, choking him unconscious but whispering something sweet in his ear as he goes under. Hopefully now he’ll wake up a little nicer. I’m not sure I’d get as close to the Queen of England whose life of service we should all be damned grateful for. She’d probably crack her neck and see her jilted tongue come out from between her dusty jowls to taste the inside of my ear and make sure I can hear about how she doesn’t just know what’s right but that she knows what’s best.
The manners she imparts on how not to care nor worry about the situation, because clearly if someone has risen to the top they are worth treating with aplomb. The disguise of neutrality fails to respect any way in which the symbolism of the position could be used to have an opinion. I guess considering the work she did in her lifetime excuses her from giving a pittance about the scully that existed below. She was never the one to chip at barnacles. But now where does she find herself, in the grace of God who decided she should maintain order over people in such a conspicuous manner or down with our old friend, dancing with the devil. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind whichever was to happen, both representing a plentiful feudal arrangement of the continuing delusionary perspective in which she got to maul the ideas we still chuck about frantically. Like some of us are deserving of just the same chance as those that dictate the ways in which we should be living. The crown instead heading the prosecution in this defenceless curse against the nature of how things get done.
I guess it doesn’t matter too much, things carried on working in the way they were said. I just wish they’d hanged the jerk who made us do the things we didn’t want and I could just carry on scrambling around, making the reality I declared exciting. That said I do appreciate being attuned, it’s just that work wasn’t created within some arrangement of consent but because I need something to eat. It’s unfortunate my services aren’t fit for mass consumption.
Maybe if I could be reborn with a crown on my head, in a prison that people go as far as to feel sorry for me, even though I could be the one to bring it down. What would I need security for if I sold off the crown jewels, sent the money to those who are starving and started to do shopping for my own groceries. It’s not like the monarch ever prevented the nation’s most deplorable savagings.
But please do not let me dictate to you the thoughts that charge through your imaginings. Even if they do not sing in tune with what it is I’m saying. I don’t mean to set the parameters of what you’re thinking, that’s on you and your ears’ digestive prowess. I’m just saying that I felt like we were getting somewhere. There’s something about this world we live in that makes us feel deeply uncomfortable and maybe if we could all just pay me some attention and realise just what it is we could live better. My delusionary fantasies are more meaningful than the ones which see the continued need for royalty and their fucked up families. I’d do it better, honestly, just trust me.