Destruction - The Future

Some nights, when I can no longer fight the weakness of my body, and bitterly succumb to its need for rest, I yet stay awake. Lieing in utter exhaustion, my selfish body influences my mind to rebel against my only purpose, and, all the while knowing I should be spending every moment strategizing for the Year of Proliferation, my mind drifts, dreaming of the future it is not my place to enjoy. I dream of the time long after the children of the ignorant masses offer my broken body to Giant Crab, that it might help fuel one iota of his electorally mandated growth, and I become one with him. I do not profess that any kind of spiritual intermingling would take place, because even if I were arrogant enough to claim the right to mingle my puny ego with the eternal Giant Crab's, it would be overwhelmed instantaneously by his might and purity. A purely material conjunction is the greatest transcendence I could hope for. After gazing at the stars before I fall into undeserved slumber, I dream of a greater, future Year of Proliferation, where Giant Crab ascends into the heavens, and devours the puny stellar counterfeit that the Romans named after his genus. With the remains of the Praesepe dusting his mandibles, he will straddle the milky way, and with a hunger greater than any black hole, consume the Pangalactic Senate that ratified his ascent.
A VOTE FOR GIANT CRAB IS A VOTE FOR A BIGGER CRAB