I’ve come to the point of making a decision. One that clears the way with the same gravitas as Moses parting the Red Sea. The point in the film to which the music swells
And then cuts off
and all is slow and silent
The room is filled with carbon monoxide and someone just entered the scene with nothing but a single solitary match.
My once-friend and former beloved now my perfect match only in hatred and fear.
Standing before me with an all-knowing grin.
The smile of destruction.
Out of which I am expected to build my life
from this moment onward.
My enemy is only that
through the suspenseful story-telling.
Creator in my head.
The enemy is me. The
enemy is that
Creator through destruction.
And I know Shiva plans to unravel all I’ve wound up in my perfect little world
on the page
Shiva will strike the match and set the page, the room, my world, my mind
The ashes will be my product…my baby. Ashes are easier to care for than skyscrapers
and castles and rare works of art long outdated and only appreciated for their age regardless of lack of beauty and truth.
Yes, all of that will be gone. Destroyed.
Burned to the ground int he depths of my soul with the smoke rising to the surface.
A murky inner being.
Working on a new creation in the shadows where I thrive.
This is the destruction I’ve been awaiting
with an erotic fetish-like anxiety.
About to undress before an old lover I keep coming back to because he knows just how rough I like it and won’t be gentle and wont tell me he loves me. But will fuck me to destruction
and leave me alone in
a pool of my own lonliness
where I feel the most vulnerable and thus the most creative and the most attractive
I will then ask Shiva to fuck me again. But he won’t.
I will beg him and he will laugh as
he saunters away
out of the ashes and through the smoke
into the dark of the dungeon where I keep him until I need his penetrating
to burn a hole in my Sacred Art of Existence.