Desperate for Destruction

I never thought it would be easy. But I suppose I was desperate to find out if I had what it took. I've quit many jobs to follow my heart, and each time I inch closer to some kind of salvation. This time feels different. Like all paths around me are crumbling down and cornering me. I feel my hopelessness overpowering my desperation. No matter how many times I slip and fall, I tell myself it isn't my fault. Blaming never got me too far in the past.

Yet it is time to evolve or die. Taking a hard look in the mirror, I see deplorable corruption and pitiless failure. A disgustingly flabby, soft, and selfish figure, seeking to devour whole anything that lay in its path. Yet, behind the mutations of the flesh, there is a glimmer of light that's begging to gleam. Suffocating under the dark, murky gloop of rotting slime, I can recognise it as the source of my experience. 

My gut tells me that this golden shimmer is what gives value to everything. Without it, even the cursed pleasures of the flesh become a heavy burden, and everything loses color. It's hard to imagine it fading away, but look at how dulled it's become compared to long ago. Remember the youth full of assurance, when white was distinct from black. 

A life staring at the abyss warps the form, as its deathly stare sank the seeker to the wretched deep. Here, up is down, no left nor right. All that remains is a faint trail of breadcrumbs. A misty memory of a chain of sins, each heavier than the last, sinking deeper into hell's unknown. Even in the darkest corners of this world, where grotesque, unholy monsters and beasts skulk and frolic like birds in trees, light is there for those who seek. 

The lusty seeker, so tempted by L'appel du Vide, thirsty for the knowledge of the deep, Why art thou tempted to kill? The taste of blood is for the beasts. Perhaps the wolf doth scare thee so, thou stand ready to heed its call. For it must be better to join them before we fall. But man has nothing to fear of the wolf. It hunts by need, enslaved by woe. Light does not seek to conquer, for all lies within its domain. Rock or bird, man or cloud, all connected, within and without.

How cruel a fate it must be, to be forced to kill, just to be. Could there be a harsher fate? Take the wolf inside a home. Feed it, groom it, make it whole. Soon it shall soften and become plump. Did it become a master or a slave? No wonder we are so afraid. With hands so bloody, no one feels safe. We look at our dogs and sharpen our fangs. Sleep with one eye open, take what you can. Grapple and sprawl for specks of dust. Forget the light, no white or black. 

Every now and then, one catches a glimpse, a vague memory long forgotten. They shake their head. There are no tests; dreams are meant to be broken. A boy once asked, "What do you dream at night?" and I looked at him in confusion. "Dear boy, who remembers such things? Now go, the roof is still leaking." I was the boy and the man, and the leaking roof. I felt the water seep through my cracks, but could not get into motion.

For a man is as a man does, and after a while, that's all he is. Hopes, dreams, thoughts, and emotions, no one speaks, and no one listens. If I may, dare stare at the light, aching to remember. What brought me here in the first place? Surely, it was more than fear. I shudder to think that this is the end, when time is ever-flowing. Let's focus more, we must adore, can't you feel it glowing? The dark grows stronger, each passing day, but something is still here. Listen closer, forget fear, it must be ever-near. Can you tell what it says? Just say it, loud and clear.

I can see it. I can tell. It's not something easy. It's far more terrifying than the meanest demons, who are actually quite friendly. The light, it burns, and scalds my skin. Merciless, cruel, and unforgiving. It speaks no lies and deals in truths, the fruits of lifelong nurture. The most extraordinary things are so impressive because they cost more than they are worth. Yet, can you put a price on peace? Of living life in one piece? When there is no more need to hide, you take up space and walk on grass. But the path is far from easy; first, we must crawl through glass. 

So what does it all mean? It means that, at some point, everyone is forced to choose. No matter who, we all are forced to make some changes. I have been blessed with the curse of good fortune and ultimate freedom. Without an ounce of discipline, this gift is my greatest folly. Where does discipline come from? Must I return to black and white? Am I to become my own judge, jury, and warden? Perhaps, but it seems there is no going back. Pandora's box of corruption cannot be undone. The ravenous forest hungers for victims. It will do anything in its power to get sustenance. 

People, places, pictures, and things all become fuel for its raging wildfires. I become just another faceless burnt-up effigy in an endless mountain of corpses. Where is my way out? At any given moment, I must look at the ground and believe in my free will. Fake-smile long enough and even slaves can become happy. Now I'm no slave to anything but my own happiness. So I must set it all on fire. The longing for destruction swelling up in my heart, that I have buried so deeply, I see it now, and free it now, for it is a form of mercy.

The violence within me that I saw in others was never meant for the world. But when you are so deeply broken, healing just has to hurt. So tell me, my shattered and twisted self, can you find the heart to be unwell? That's really what matters the most. The best discovery, the golden goose. Putting aside all rhyme and reason, this is the truth that must be spoken:

The key to salvation is in your heart, and with it, the potential for courage. Do you see a vision of a better world, where you are happy and all is well? Turn around, and run as far as you can. Even a worm can become a man. But there is no salvation for me. No happy ending, no fun or merry. Set your sights on the harshest truths, don't look away, don't even flinch. Fat? So be it. Ugly? Bring it on. Dumb? Slow? Poor? Broke? Stupid? Useless? Weak? Dying? Do your fucking worst.

Pain is the key to my salvation. Destruction burns the forest to ash, so the light can glow unbroken. 

For now, just forget the glow. The light will only weaken. A corrupted soul will try to eat it whole, like the scorpion stung the frog, purging all the heavens, and shutting out salvation. Just be where you are and trust the process. You are one with all, and until you feel it, you can never be unbroken. So don't even try and let it pass by. The pain and suffering will come in waves. Raw aches, sharp stabs, dull bludgeoning slams, and quiet, suffocating clouds. Sweat, rashes, sore muscles, aching bones, burning eyes, rancid smells, growling guts, and ringing ears. 

The uglier, the better. The more humiliating, the more freeing. As pathetic as admirable, but forget all of it, you know nothing. You are the enemy who must be broken. Punch and fight, striking with all your might. This battle of the ages will make a hero or a martyr, but there is peace in the fight, and honor in the courage. Keep fighting, keep hitting, wear yourself down. Ground to a fine dust, within, and without.

Think, feel, act, or be, no matter what is happening, let it burn and seethe. Fuck anything that distorts your mission. We said it here, you saw it clear, what else is there to tout?