Blood

Rising with the tides, with the Moon, with swirls of dust in the air, with wolf howls. Blood rises till it drowns every other voice, breath, conscious thought. Blood brings the animal and the animal knows no mercy.

To devour another person is to possess, to own, to rip to shreds. Because Eros always goes hand in hand with Thanatos. And desire...is the beginning of the downfall of man. Visceral desire that treads on dreams, on whispers, on discrete sighs. Its vise-like grip will not loosen till blood is spilt, licked, drunk.

I am sometimes in awe as to how fragile we are as human beings. And how powerless subjects we are to instincts. Reason is of course to be developed and praised. But how little reasoning is involved in the complete abandon to another person. How the body actually becomes the mind and the flow of erotic energy carries you like a furious stream would carry a leaf.

I am thinking about the Minotaur as an archetype for masculinity. The head of a bull, the body of a man and the prowess of both combined. Fire and brimstone! How is it that such monstrosities are the epitome of sexual predation? How could they not be? And what does that say about us as people?

Hm. The beast is relentless. And blood will flow.

Drug of choice of the day

Command and conquer

I have bathed in the blood of sacrificial bulls, yet I have not found the answer to my question. What is the shape of the heart of man?

How do you conquer something that has no shape? How do you approach it, how do you encirle it, how do you starve it to the point it starts to feed on itself? How do you make it surrender? How can you even know when it surrenders, if it has no knees to fall down to?

I am the commander of my legions. I will conquer this land, even if I don't really know where I am. Because there is nothing else that I know but war. A child bred out of strife who grew up fighting demons and darkness and fear. A child at heart still, who will barge in and slash and maim and kill lest he stop and deal with his own fear of the dark.

The lesser kind are not my kind. Yet I still do not understand how to fight an enemy that you cannot describe. Subscribe. Always beating at an arms length, always close enough to hear, but too far to reach. A fist thumping in the chest of other mortals. Like myself.

I reach within me, I feel around my heart. It is bloody. Angry. Loud. Afraid. Soft. Scarred.

A half smile. Dawn brings another day filled with dirt and blood. A good day.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Sometimes I think that the greatest perversion is hope. The fact that it dies last. And it eats at your heart in the meantime, like a slow serpent carving channels through the soft flesh.

I have had my catharsis a while ago and it took me almost two years to get it. It meant the death of hope. Isn't it ironic? Deliverance came in the form of death. I cut out a part of me and killed it. In front of my eyes. I sighed in pain with its passing, but it set me free. From the bonds of slavery. And after rain comes the rainbow and the promise of another tomorrow.

And tomorrow never dies, or so the song goes. And with my tomorrow, today came to bathe in my emotions and swim within my body. "I found romance on your menu" it declared and, with an unsympathetic smile, proceeded to feast upon my dreams. "I know no yesterday, no tomorrow, no sorrow" it said beween mouthfulls. I watched in fascination as little pieces of me disappeared in it. It had blue eyes.

If time is but a gaping black hole where we lose ourselves, can space come to the rescue? Can there be a place where you exhale, where the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true? Where the sky is blue and the grass is green and drops of dew kiss you good morning. I know this place exists, I have seen it in a dream. A dream with teeth marks on it, granted, but still mine. Alive and kicking.

If happy little blue birds fly
Across the rainbow,
Why, oh why, can't I?

A world of cookies

Delicious cookies. Happy thoughts. Soft dreams.