Maggots on Flesh
The face you see. On the side of a half-drunk bottle of whisky. In a pool of piss. That’s not you. It’s a flesh vessel. A piece of meat. One that has ambition. Dreams. And is stupid enough to believe it can be something more. More than a shitty utility slave. We wake up. Soaked in ambition. Ready to try again. Ready to give it another shot. But it’s useless. Because ambition gets us nowhere. And as the days pass. Hope dwindles. Desperation rises. And with desperation comes the decay. Then they come—the Maggots. To profit off of our decay. To cling onto our desperation. And turn it against us. It begins simply. With Free Stuff. On the house. Like a drug dealer. Trying to get the street addicted. As you dive deeper. There’s a pitch. Step inside. Get more visibility. Better Network. Better Opportunities. Only $49/ month. Auto Renewed forever. They go by different monikers. “Career Consultants”. “Education Platforms”. “Coaching Communities.” “Private Channels”. All fall under the same umbrella. And gnaw at the same wound. Desperation.
All these people parroted the same message. Build a personal brand. To smile more. To ‘optimize’ my expertise. But when the bills came calling. Everyone disappeared. Left me to my fate. Vanished. Like rats on a sinking ship – but they were the ones who drilled the fucking holes. They promise the world. Deliver nothing. And leech your bank account. Till they can’t no more. Amicably. Without a hint of doubt. Or remorse. They say, “Invest in your future.” You say, “Okay.” You just wanted to learn one thing. How to code. How to write better emails. How to scrape data. But suddenly you’ve signed up for a year-long membership. Auto-renewed. Auto-charged. Auto-fucked. I fell for one of these pitches. I cleaned out the cobwebs in my account. Pulled a couple hundred dollars and paid the guy. All I got was 8 videos. 6 of which were some guy mumbling. And pulling stuff out of his ass. The Maggots exist as long as there is desperation. It’s discounts for dying men. Coupons for the crematorium. They act like friends. Yet stab like a bloodthirsty enemy. They clear out our pockets. Toss you back onto the street. And pick up the next sucker. They don’t teach. They don’t guide. They feed. And we keep showing up to be devoured. Because what else is there? You cannot say ‘No.’ No is a curse. It makes you invisible. Makes the world forget you. The algorithm won’t remember. Neither will the recruiter. You’ll be thrown into the ether. That’s dark. Dark as a moonless night. Darker even. Far away from the bright lights. Struggling to swim or sink. And yet, despite your screams. No one offers a hand. No one even hears you. Just like that, you disappear. Removed from the scene. Like an indignant child. Like old meat. Brushed off the plate.
Yet the Maggots persist. Till you can give no more. Till there’s no more flesh. Till they can sell you nothing more. Even then – The Maggots don’t die. They pivot. Get the next motherfucker. Another poor sod who lost his job. And they sell it under the guise of advice.