Nevil Ryston

Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and god was not there. The cold suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone

Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later.

Born from Oblivion; bear children hellbound as ourselves; go into oblivion

There is nothing else

Existence is random, has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long

No meaning save for what we choose to impose

This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not god who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs.

Its us. Only us