Atrocities reconstructed through surrealist imagery. Re-enactments of recurring fevered dreams through vapid choreography. A history distilled; captured through saturated stills. Rose tinted eyes blind to the past they left behind. Repeat the mantra over in your mind and contemplate the killings you inspired. You bear the burden of their ghosts as you pretend that conscience can’t suppress the actions of free men.
Fifty years and no escape, destined to revel in bespoke action replays. Regrets interred. The last to show remorse, so purge away the memories of barely covered graves. A condemned man, a tormented soul that a three act structure can’t absolve. An unthinking pride that’s buried deep, cosmetic deeds belie what’s underneath. You’re rendered numb. How few among your number can withstand the torture dealt by your own hands? What cost is it to kill the collective amnesia you instilled?
Every laboured breath, and every whispered curse you witnessed serves as a reminder that these wounds can’t be reversed.