the meal deal

I’m trying to figure out how your darkness shines so bright. It’s fucking unbelievable. Surely there must be a secret to your black luminosity. Haven’t met anyone else who can be brighter than the white light. But you. You come at the blinding white with the darkest Underneath Force I’ve ever known or seen. An energy that lithely turns things inside out. You do it fluidly. Smoothly. Painlessly. I’m numb as you take my innards and line them up on your dinner table. Sprinkle some salt and pepper for seasoning, you pick up your fine silver knife and fork and begin. Your meal.

You dine once every other week on this ‘meal’. This is your indulgence. Your sinful feast. Your declaration of Being.

Did I ever tell you I think you’re scum? Worse than the bastard I used to know. At least he was a bastard through and through. You? You hide behind flimsy veneers of Right, Morals, Principles and Ethics. I find that funny in a sick sort of way. It is almost hilarious how you do that. Indulge and then sit back, fix your hair, light a cigarette, take a sip of the single malt whiskey and then speak of things righteous. You’re amazing. Can I frame and hang you on my red wall? You’d fit right in on my Wall of Pseudoism.

Sucker fucker. You can shove your fine silver fork dipped in single malt right up where the sun don’t shine. And hey, keep it there.

05/05/08; 6:45pm