A little closer to the end–day by day.
Our corpses–nutrients for the earth, then rebirth.
Our souls–filaments of the Logos, then expansion of consciousness.
Lackadaisical Daze
The tragedy of life is that you chose to remain nailed to the cross of mediocrity, never heeding the pleas of the soul to walk toward the future Self that was waiting for you on the other side.
Instead, you chose to rot, sauntering through lackadaisical days within the asylum of do-nothingness. And now, you have no one to blame, no one to curse, no one to spit at, but yourself.
Now accept your rightful damnation, you wretched sloth.
Gentle Curse
Everywhere I go, I notice things. Insignificant things. Beautiful things.
Whether it’s a satisfying composition found within the quiet chaos of an off-the-beaten-path bush, a peculiar man ordering slices of watermelon at a blinged-out taco truck at 2 am, or the stray pink hairs I spy within the blonde cascades of a lover’s locks.
They all exist—somewhere, everywhere, and it’s hard for me not to notice, but I do, and it’s a gentle curse.
Trinity
Who you were, who you are, who you will be, are 3 different people:
A beast, a devil, and a sage.
Eden
I had a childish dependence on you—it was like an indwelling demon, but I’ve since exorcised it from my life. I have enough sense to know now that Freedom’s lips are much sweeter than yours will ever be.
Although I struggled finding my way, mucking about in the damp abyss of my infatuation for you, I could see the blurred promise of an oasis in the distance, beckoning me with the fulfillment and indemnity that Self-Sovereignty would come to occupy in my life.
It’s a lonesome Eden at times, but I’d rather be alone than confined by your suffocating embrace.
Breathe
They will mock you. Laugh behind your back. Call you a “weirdo”, a “creep”, or simply “nuts”.
Nevermind them. Their lives are small—their imagination even smaller. They are the ones that are want for pity, for they are oblivious of their shadow, and they will forever be somnambulists in their understanding, condemned to walk aimlessly through the dark corridors of life.
Leave them be. They are hopeless.
Keep walking.
Keep dancing.
Keep breathing.
Breathe in the twisted hoax of life. Exhale your inhibitions, your losses, your hurt. Release them into the heaviness of the night, where you find yourself at this very moment—alone, but never lonely.
Remember, you are expansive in your breaths—breathe, never stop breathing.
Breathe deep. Let them ridicule. Their laughter will suffocate their potential, and suppress their spirit.
Better to be mocked, than to be spiritless.
They Don't Know What They Don't Know
Resist the inclination to allow the mindless opinions from others to usurp your throne. Your supremacy lies in your defiant autonomy—your revenge will be affirmed by their oblivious mediocrity.
Boldness is a performance art, and there will always be critics in the audience too basic to understand the nuances that intoxicate us with life. So keep your gaze forward and your hands dancing, their ridicule will be scorched by your fire.
That Kind of Woman
Her looks so twist the strings of your heart, that they turn your mind; for her eyes are like armies, and where her glances fall, there cities burn, until the dust of their ashes is blown by her sighs.
I know her, and so do you. And all those who know her suffer.
Hecuba speaking about Helen of Troy in Euripides, The Trojan Women
Burrowed Delights
The moon burrows secrets on its hidden side, as do we, and we delight in them. As the night befalls our corrupt conscience, we boast in never getting caught. Lasciviousness comes at a price, but pleasure comes quicker. Until we meet again, I’ll be around.
Strategems for Pursuasion
Generally speaking, it is best to gain favor and influence through indirect means—like an insidious vapor that quietly pervades a room with its invisible presence.
But, as nothing in life is concrete, there will be times when employing a conquistador mindset will lead you to pinnacles of pleasure you’ve only ever imagined.
Force and vehemence then, should be your concealed weapons as you navigate the shifting terrain in your bedroom.
Harvest
People will often confuse my kindness for weakness, and take my warm interest in them for granted. Occasionally, after my patience has blistered into malcontent, I’ll eviscerate them with an unapologetic chill.
I’ve always found that respect is reaped out of distance and apathy–a rebalancing of the scales that reminds them that my presence in their life is indeed a gift.
Swans and Swines
I have two beasts roaming inside me. One is connected to the earth–sensual, empathetic, loving. And the other? He’s primal, unpredictable, and conceals cruelty as his switchblade.
I vacillate between the two–between making love, and brute fucking; caressing, and shoving my fingers down accepting mouths; between caring for my elderly grandmother, and driving to your place after she’s gone to bed, and your boyfriend’s out of town.
I don’t feel any psychological dissonance, or guilt. Maybe I’m just a sociopath, or perhaps, an honest saint that struggles with his human nature.
Cuerpos Extranjeros
Ay, como me fascinan las brujas. Mis curiosidades me están dirigiendo a cuerpos extranjeros. Que placeres me esperan. Ave María purísima.