I thank you, because I burn.

This is an extract from my novel- I've written it just now as I feebly attempt to stifle the urge in my stomach to scream and tear something apart. It is not the solar body that I thank, though it does burn, (and I appreciate that) but rather a body of a different sort. I feed myself into this machine, and this is my silent vengeance.

Pleasantries were exchanged, cordially, as he passed people who also lived in their fixed-state lives. They entered their cars or left shop fronts, walked their dogs and paid their mortgages, all as they had done the days and years proceeding. Perhaps they would go on holiday this year, he heard. The world is not a safe place anymore; best not. They were all like undisturbed liquid in a vast container, still and unspoilt, constant and savvy in their boxes whilst they slowly evaporated under the strength of the sun. That sun burnt like a self-sustaining, amber ball of rage. It ate itself to prove its own potency, growing fatter and fatter as it died away. It eviscerated any and all that got too close, just to make a statement that it was to be left alone to its own devices; left alone to burn itself away, left alone so that it could scream at the top of its voice how much better the world was for it, lashing out with a cancerous fury because it knew nothing else other than hatred, and still, it was loved. How we misunderstand that great god of the sky! How little we know how it feels, and yet how similar are our own fates… to consume and consume in a bid to satiate a never ending hunger for more. Our thirst for freedom, for identity, for power, wealth and knowledge: our thirst for equanimity! We burn like that sun, until we explode and shatter ourselves all over, and in dying, eradicate the futures of those who depend on us, in which, lies the fate of the whole world.