// transmission
Psyche dedicates an episode to addressing his trolls and critics, calling out their hypocrisy and fake bravado. He challenges them to 'say it with their face' and be honest about their true intentions.
Original Transmissions/// initiate_layer
Observers see the surface.
/// within ∞ The Current
Browse era →You hide in a panel, throw a fit, throw a face. Talk slick in a circle, go mute face to face. Big bark in the pack, but alone you just shake. Built tough in the chat, but in daylight you break. You don't want the truth, you want clips, you want spin. Want to target the paint while you rob from within. Whole brand built on hate. Whole vibe built on
spite. You need somebody else just to sleep through the night. You call it exposure, I call it a need. You feed off attention like a sickness that feeds. Not deep, not fear, not rare, not smart, just a loud little echo with a cracked up heart. Say it with your face. Say it with your chest. Say it with no crowd there patting out the rest. No pack, no
shield, no back up in the back. Just you, your mouth, and the nerve that you lack. You talk like a giant, but you move like a mouse. Big bad on the stream. Real small in the house. All that smoke, all that noise, all that fake disgrace. If you mean to stand still and say it with your face.
Handle full of prophets with a pit in their grin. Preach peace for a minute, then go wallow in sin. Play saint when it's easy. Play shock when it flips. Throw mud with a smile, then hide behind scripts. You laugh when it's others. Get brave when it's safe and cry for some context when it lands in your space. You love public shame when it's far from your door. But when that wheel turns,
you want mercy and more. Fake rules, fake codes, fake poise, fake class. Hold more high ground. Built on brittle ass glass. You wear cheap ethics like a coat. Two sizes small. Looks fine. From a distance up close, it's a fraud. Say it with your face. Say it with your chest. Say it with no crowd. They're patting out the rest. No pack, no shield, no back up in the back. Just
you, your mouth, and the nerve that you lack. You talk like a giant, but you move like a mouse. Big bad on the stream, real small in the house. All that smoke, all that noise, all that fake disgrace. If you mean to stand still and say it with your face. What would we see if we stripped off the act? Not masterminds, just bitterness is dressed black. Not warriors, not sages,
not legends, not flames, just insecure people playing dress up with names. Maybe envy with the mic. Maybe ego with teeth. Maybe hollowess talking while it grinds underneath. Baby, all that swagger is a tremoring drag. A paper then thrown in a moth eating rag. You're brave by committee, never brave by yourself. Meet 10 other voices, just a
fake being felt. Every smear you launch is confession and cold. You tell on your soul every time you unload. You confuse being cruel with being clever and sharp. Confuse being loud with having something like heart. Confuse cheap laughs with truth and class. That's why every hit you throw comes back as trash. You wanted a villain, needed one for the
show, needed somewhere to point so your rot wouldn't show. Now the joke writes itself every time that you speak. Because the loudest in the room is usually the weak. Say it with your face. Say it in the light. Say it with your name. When there's nobody in sight, no added, no panel, no chorus, no brace. Just your own thin spine and the heat you embrace.
You talk like a stone, but you crack like a base. One good look at truth and you shatter in place. All that smoke, all that noise, all that fake disgrace. If you mean to stand still and say it with your face. So keep your little koi. Keep your hungry routine. Keep feeding on rumor like it's blood in a dream. When the screen goes dark and the noise
leaves space. What's left ain't power, ain't wit, ain't grace. Just a scared little hater who can't say it with their face.
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