Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Dining with Cannibals - Digestivo


And crawling on the planet’s face, some insects called the human race

Messenger ~ Christina Francov


I am Nosferatu
The cameras flash half-heartedly at another corporate crime being enacted for the consumption of the duped. Alfred Volare, reduced to a scapegoat dressed up as a cartoon villain.
He’ll be fine despite the tears and fears of his PA, loyal to the edge of the pavement where the cops make show of concern by shielding his pate as he enters the car – he is protected from above.
I am Nosferatu, I will suck you dry.
Derailleur watches from the 13th floor, he’s never rated Volare and is surprised that he lasted this long, one can simply never gauge the capabilities of these suit-encased egos – oh well, Pinky your time will be taken up for a while now; limiting damage to the shareholders; distracting the employees with some cheap sweetener, grooming the new figurehead to take the light of the world on his face.
I am Nosferatu, what I need is what you desire most.
Swann finishes his best-ever-scoring game of Mah-jong and wonders what happen next. He realises that he is truly afraid as he climbs under his desk.
Keep your blood, I have no taste for that, besides you’re gonna need it in order to produce what I want.
On the closed door with the legend “Hobre HSE Executive Manager” there is appended a “do not disturb” sign stolen from the Burj Al Arab while performing an audit for the Blackstone Corporation’s HSE Department – the client is always ready to splash out during the early stages of a project.
Nosferatu don’t need your blood, your love or your loyalty honey, Nosferatu needs your cash
Geraldine unhooks her brown coat – the one that smells like the stable – and heads off home; another day, another dollar.
I am Nosferatu, I eat your money.

All-you-can-eat Capitalism

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