Against the wall

This is not a season in Hell, this is an eternal sentence  in the fiery pit. 
No devils with pitchforks in this prison, just the internal, infernal demons who tear and scratch behind my eyes. 
My reality IS NOT real! 
It’s an illusion, I sit down to eat, I lie down to sleep, but I know I’m in Hell. 
Calamity is my Master and to him I paid dues over and over and over again. 
I'm against the wall. I beseech the firing squad, please, pull the trigger. 
The guns fire, then darkness. But I always wake again with my back against a different wall, different wall but the same pain. 
The same monotonous struggle of life. 
My senses are under attack by a million fake stimulants, phoney natural delights, whining sounds screamed from fame hungry imposters, the artificial smell of coffee piped into my life and a thousand scented candles to calm my raging soul. 
I see over and over and over and over again, inequities, atrocity, conspiracy, corruption, genocide and empirical subjugation. 
I fear, I fear, I fear, for freedom of expression and speech, 
Ideas and art being trampled by the offended majority, a stampede of politically correct sheep, herded by online control to their own slaughter. 
Keep calm and consume the message from our leaders, New cars, New houses, New wallpaper , more scented candles! 
More throwaway consumer crap. 
The Twitter force feed, Facebook peer pressure, the monotonous struggle for designer goods at clearance store prices as the less well off try to compete with the affluent Jones's. 
What price John Ruskin? “There is no wealth but life” ... corrupted!!! 
There is no life but wealth...jostle and trample the disaffected, throw a pound in their plastic cup to ease your conscience, 
Eat more, drink more, buy, buy, buy, own, own, own, stack high your, “things.” 
A new mobile phone every three months, the latest trend, the latest look, the latest colour, the latest “must have”   all coming round quicker and quicker, every year, every quarter, every month, week, day, hour. 
Stockpile your success your, your great stinking, festering pile of achievement... 
But it’s all shit. 
Throwaway consumer goods are old and obsolete as soon as they are bought. 
As soon as they make you happy you hit the downer, you need the next thing, bigger, better, newer, more expensive, a retail addiction that demands a hit every hour on the hour,  more deadly than any Chemical, you carry on until your old and infirm, losing everything in the game you can’t win. 
No goods, no wealth, no health, nothing, just getting by on your state hand out .. pissing against the wall. 
I advocate pissing against the wall, live for the moment, be mindful, fill your veins with life, drink, inject, inhale.... ingest your venal pleasures, anything to thin the blood and thicken the oblivion. 
 Then piss out your misery against the wall.   
Just like the miserable consumer sheep piss their lives away on colour schemes, cars, houses and 
Scented fucking candles.