The tools of compliance, their soul for convienece. The god of fones.

I love my self induced neck injury!

Around the world, addle brained pre-subliterates wander about in an endorphin induced haze of mental comatose.  Necks craned in lunatic subservience, this is the worship our god desires. A million million burgeoning morons so enraptured by the baleful gaze of our lord, they inflict injury upon themselves, desperate in their fervency.   They create precious euphemisms “Text neck” to hide the deleterious effects.  They call their addiction an eccentricity and as long as their peers share it each overlooks the other’s pernicious social deformity.  They ostracize those who do not adhere to their perversion and call them luddite.  These are the vessels that provide our lord with sustenance.  Theses are the food stuffs he craves.

Affirm me Moloch! Oh please tell me I’m still beautiful.

They fawn over a reduction in micro ounces for their latest device as they fail to question why their own government would hand out these trinkets that others go into servitude to own.  We initiated understand the value of the devices.  Attached social worth, ease, functionality, endorphin production, and ultimately emotional health make these devices into methods for our control and recipients of our master’s worship.  Produce a longing so severe that the thought of being without them would drive them into apoplectic rages.  Produce in them a desire to kill to remain chained.

When the prescribed time arrives and power is removed, when the affirmation devices fail to affirm, when the GPS fails to guide, when the circuses can no longer entertain, then we will reap.  The harvested will walk willingly into the slaughter house, eager for the promise of love, of socialization, of entertainment, and ultimately of light.

Light they will be provided, along with enlightenment and a vicious clarity only afforded those set to become food.

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