ONE-WAY STREET

If I'm not recompensed for the irreparable damage I incurred here

to my health, to my work and to every other aspect of my life as

a result of wilful, premeditated criminality

and the corrupt practices to condone and perpetuate it

they're going to be a bloodbath of unprecedented proportions

before my health has declined to such an extent I would no

longer be able see through such an intention completely by myself

and unaided by third parties.

 

I know, when it comes to the crunch, you can only rely on yourself.

And nobody is going to fuck up this one.

I do everything with the same thoroughness.

I make no distinction between tasks.

Writing or killing Pigs, all the same.

 

There's no point in writing anything as long as those Pigs are alive anyway.

They're going to keep perverting and vandalizing everything I do to my dying day if I don't kill them before I die.

 

This is a one-way street.

It only leads to one place.

They chose it, not me.

 

I'm never going to lose my composure here.

I'm not even going to raise my voice.

I'm not going to threaten.

I'm not going to warn.

I'm not going to name anyone.

 

They know who is meant.

They know what they did.

They know what they would do

if I had done it to them.

 

It's their life they're gambling with.