voices, pt. 1
how stealthily the earthquakes come, stealing the foundation bit by bit, instigating destruction without humanity even knowing what is being destroyed until it's broken. and we feel the earthquakes but they jostle us gently, they rock us to sleep like babes in mothers’ arms, because we need to be comforted in our constant death.
o grand illusion!, envelope me like you do everyone else—make me the darkness of the singularity: make me the event horizon that eats light like the longing saturn for his eternal throne. make me darkness incarnate, an inchoate breaching of morality that i feel no inkling of remorse for.
the earthquakes grow steadily silenter, easier, as grifters grown in the falsity of their craft become evermore confident, the earthquakes submit each of us to their entropy without consent: we did not consent to the rape of our souls nor our minds by the vicious arrogance of creatures that walk beside us—or not beside us, these walk above us and look down as if we were cockroaches that will not die—o master of my master, wrap my spirit in your arms and massage my aches away!
what the hell is this i write? is it a manifestation of my disenchantment with the world at large?
maybe i am disenchanted because the world seems to reward that: why be happy when happiness is stolen from under you as soon as it is glimpsed?
there is only the natural human instinct to become attached to the place you always end up, even if that place is misery and the dark depths of the soul.
i wrote about the cycles of the highs and lows, and that thought never disappears completely—we must learn to focus on the between-states, not the serrated edges of the finality of “feeling”, but the dull, uninteresting but visceral process of getting there.
but the serrations cut deeply, so deeply that we black out, and the knife's edge pressures me into darkness.
what knife? the one God holds above us all, we just never see it rise or fall, that supreme guillotine that severs the sanctum of soul-crushing being, is it living or dying that is worse?