Dear Dead End,

It’s been forever since we last spoke. And my, how so little has changed. The streets as filthy as a post-apocalyptic hell-hole. Corruption in the forces who once swore oaths to protect and serve  adding a silent addendum no doubt “…my own interests and those of my friends.”And yet, as they say #NotAllOfficials

The same potholes in the roads, leading innocents and depraved alike bone-breaking distances. And just a tip, there are better ways to get into the annals of history than digging a hole through to China. Power-hungry and pathetic scumbags roam our streets. Taking what isn’t their’s to take. Innocence and hope lost to the blind and pathetic lust of neanderthals. What is it about you, my sweet Dead End, which draws into your bosom so many throwbacks from the evolutionary chain? A city over-run by human-rats. Biological automatons with a half grasp on meaning full of empty need destroying the people around them. “Fuck. Thrust. Use. Abuse. Mine.” All fine. Understood. “No.” “Stop!” “You’re hurting me.” concepts beyond your meagre scope of understanding. You make dogs proud of their cognisance.  But that is too easy. You know what it means. Your pleasure comes from force. Control. Limp-dicked till rage erupts in sick and entitled barbarism.

Are you so lonely? Have you strayed so far from your own humanity and into yourself that you believe you can only be complete by using another as your sexual punch bag? Here’s a tip. Shoving your dick or dildo into another doesn’t make them yours. It makes you a tool. A rapist. Nothing more. Nothing less. For what is a broken person but a shell of what they could be? What pride is their in owning a half-life? And you wonder why your appetites are never sated.

I am calling you out. Here. Now. Insane cultists and independents alike. We won’t stand for it any longer. Our bodies are ours. Not yours. We are not meat. What you take from my physicality, you will not steal from my soul. Vengeance is the prize of the survivor and we are legion. We will rise up and we will break you with our justice. No waiting for karma. We do not need to depend on anyone outside of ourselves to be whole. And we are coming for you.

SURVIVORS. The choice is yours. The past cannot be undone, but the future is yours to shape. To mould. Alone or together.

And I, my dear Dead End. I will help to lead this charge. For my rage, it burns bright too. Just you wait and see.

Sparks will fly.

Your sincere servant,

– A. Survivor.

All letters to the editor are subject to Freedom of Speech. They do not neccessarily reflect the opinion of the DE Daily News.
((In other words, keep up the hard work you deviants.))