Just like every day, waking into terror, the ground rushing up beneath me, terminal velocity, life is ending. The first cup of coffee and the blinds wind up an inch, the cabin in the blast zone, ground zero, the rotting hide in the zombie enclosure in the human zoo, the Neanderthal exhibit. Out there the streets are streaked with blood and dog shit and the scorched air torn with the hoots and bellows of the drunken, the mad, the bewildered, a few cerebral embers glowing a malevolent, baleful sizzling enough to want to hurt to smash to destroy. In here the surveillance equipment turns a blind eye and a deaf ear to the endless horror, the machine of flesh and blood ploughing itself under and rearing skywards again, falling once again, rising once again. Life is ending. Life is going nowhere. Life is watching the screens, waiting for the air to clear, waiting for the screaming to stop, waiting for it to be safe to go back above ground. Life will end while it waits. Forced to watch while a pack of wild dogs tears apart the baby. Endless horror. In here the shelves groan beneath the weight of the holocaust, the Somme, Brady & Hindley, the tonton macoutes, Stalingrad, sharks dining at the shipwreck, planes falling from the sky, the comfort in knowing that millions of others did not survive, that millions suffered and were not saved, that sense and salvation are fiction, that virtue will not prevail, that only hate will get you through, clinging to your pointless life while the earth upon which you shiver is ripped apart in flames…

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