Dung

 

A scenery tells the stories of a thousand lives.

The trees, tall and old. Proud like humanity did not dare to touch it in centuries. 

The dirt, wet and dark with an intense smell of nature. This is the place ants and mushrooms and bacteria and mice and bugs call home. Hundreds, maybe thousands or even millions of those smaller beings nest  and flourish where earth smells like that.

The feeping and peeping. Birds, wind, crickets, bees, all those sounds you hear where humanity is far away. 

No roaring, no rattling, no screaming. 

This is where I go to bury your corpse. Ironic how you always claimed to hate the city just to bring your noise wherever you go. Now for the first time in seventy years your body gets to experience the true peace of nature. No speaker box at the fishing trip, no argument at the hiking trail, no BANG BANG BANG, chopped down trees, no gunshots from hunters lodge. Just peace and nature.

Listen, did you ever experience this power? This power nature is supposed to hold. I don’t think you ever knew. I don’t think you cared ever. You never cared at all. You wanted things to be easy and simple, unchallenging one might say. Unchallenging for you at least. To consider what other people wanted, that would have been too much for you. 

But also did you even care for that? You just wanted it that way. You expected it to be that way. You were entitled. When something wasn’t made easy you would just throw a tantrum. Not to fix anything, not to make anything easy. Just because you were mad.

You spoiled little brat.

I’m glad you are dead

I grab the shovel and start digging. The smell of the earth gets stronger and the birds are singing their tune of winning. I love the nature, I love the ants, I love the mushrooms and the bacteria thriving in those lands and I love the mice and I love the bugs. I love everything that crawls and crucks. Thank you for being part of a bigger thing. Thank you for contributing. Thank you for keeping life going. Let this body be my contribution, my nourishment, my gratitude to this system. 

I don’t expect to get away with murder in this day and age. But I also don’t expect to get support for my disabilities. Thanks to people like you. I would not particularly mind getting locked up. I know there but be no place for me in nature, but at least this place is not filled with your anger.

The hole now should be deep enough. Your lifeless body gets a last kick in the ribs and spit on its dead face. A second kick and you roll over in the hole and I start pushing the earth back where I just dug it out.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. There really is no remorse. I just learned to hate you. You and everything you stood for. Always stuck in your ways. Always looking down. Always angry at everyone. Never at peace. You were fighting windmills. You were disgusting. You always wanted to be right. You needed your rage to be heard. But you never really explained why you were mad. So I put you to sleep. I gave you peace. Rest in piss like the piece of shit you lived as.

 

On my way home I wondered if it was worth it or not. Have I just become another nihilistic agent of rage? Another killer adding on to the rut. Or was there a point that I simply forgot.