Noted horrorcore rap original Esham he of the
darkest lost zones of Detroit shall suggest to us that wicketshit will never
die, and there is strength to be taken from surviving the horrible darkness
that is late capitalism and cultural collapse of western civilization due to
the avarice and greed of those who have always been positioned at the top of
the pyramid scam, at some point (I hope) one has to embrace the faith that this
is not an end nor an ultimatum nor the final call of apocalyptic purgatory, and
that perhaps a bettershit shall be born from the ashes of this failed
experiment in exploitation, unsustainable personal profit over collective good,
and general dehumanization of each other. But while still immersed in this slow
boil of decline (which appears to be boiling more and more each passing week,
but then again we all know how watched pots boil and we are certainly watching
for bubbles more readily than ever), there is no doubt great solace in dark
wicketshit arts, which take the feelings of total insecurity, lack of safety,
deep paranoia from rabid police state militarization, distrust of random
passersby as “is this man friend or foe? will he give me daps or stabs?”, and
so on and so forth, and these horrible feelings of failure can be exorcised by
embracing the wicketshit in our arts, so that we don’t have to do so in real
life. It helps the machetes remain unbloodied for another day.
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