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Yet another genocide. Another black guy shot in the gut. Another guy who didn't follow the guide. Again and again. Another tomorrow slips towards each end of the sun. Hearts grow pale, an eye wrinkles as if never to open again. Sigh of indifference, this girl, by chance, is born. At any time he makes his law, the human drowns, believes himself, once again, to be the unique being, a plastic language, the immortal who will never again have pain in his body. Yet another tomorrow... The images hit, smack my noggin. I mark with a cross when I come across death and its scar. My planet succumbs on the canvas. Good legs fall. The trumpets sound, death celebrates. Brothel houses abound, breaking virgins taken for pillless bitches. Races are disappearing. The crime of dirty ganache still works: leaves traces on dead kids. Yet another tomorrow... A shot in the gut, a woman being murdered, a people being exterminated, a kid covered in acid. Again, again, no! Again!