coronary insanity

i was drinking up and looking through a glass, darkly
weeping i just have to make it through this evening
pulled the curtains i heard them speaking in tongues
about a naive no-one who never tried who was barely more
than a twinkle in his old mans eye but slightly more than
a suicide who met a good listener with perfect words a
closed lipped ventriloquist heart all-a-slur either you
are still with me or you never were either you are still
with me or you never were either you are still with me or

~loveless

A Goddamned Messianic Tragedy of the Heart

O, you were always my messiah.

The collapse of will and fate; that the knowing flame in our eyes foresaw the descent, the demise -- foresaw this in that our very knowledge was birthed of itself. A goddamned messianic tragedy of the heart. That despite all the animal magnetism, the enchantment, the inevitability, and desire -- that despite will and fate -- we, two ships, sailed valiantly onward in the night... sailed silently, passing, and drifting on immaculately, never to pass by again. Never to touch.

When the mind, the microcosmos, the world, and the cosmos all pled otherwise.

Self-denial turned denial toward you. So consumed. Two selves meant to be entwined, such that one self is the other. And so to self-sacrifice is to betray.

Self-denial turned denial toward you.

And so, I ran. From myself [from you]. Tore myself away, anguish, agony, love. And when I died, because I did, because a self cannot be torn in half, you resurrected me.

O, you were always my messiah -- the messiah of my heart... my lifeblood, my cherished, fallible, mortal, living, pulsing messiah.

I breathe you, as though you pump the bellows of my soul. Your beauty sustains me, ever enamored. The more I love you, the more I am resurrected; the more your messianic stare pierces me sorely, the more the sweet joins the bitter. The beauty I see in you I see in myself. The beauty in you is the beauty in me.
Selfless self love.

And though I stand alone, my lone self is all I need because you live on in me.

And I turned to face the cold and damned

I swear to god, if anything, possessing sanity in a world of unmitigated insanity will be the trigger that finally drives me insane. Fucking irony. Fucking hell.

The more healthy&stable I become, the more alienated, alone I realize I am.
Alone and suffering.

And when it comes down to it, what good is sanity in the face of absolute aloneness? What value is a mental, emotional, and spiritual language that is entirely incommunicable? When do mere human fallibility and sheer insanity begin to bleed into each other? Am I sane if sanity, by default, is socially defined because knowledge is collectively gained?

George Orwell himself wrote that "perhaps a lunatic is just a minority of one."
[Granted, that line stems from a troubled protagonist's internal struggle to find truth amidst an oppressive, totalitarian society; the character is despairing, conflicted, confused, and his perception is obfuscated by the absolute tyrannical monopoly on truth... that is to say, the line itself may not be truth.]

Monopoly on truth... as though it were a commodity for humans to control, as though it is dependent on our existence and not the other way around... as though with enough sickening egomania, we truly become gods. Disgusting power lusting wretches.

Now belief, that's another matter altogether.
Belief is entirely dependent on human existence.
Belief is entirely subject to human control.
And belief itself is the root of all power, and subsequently all tyranny.


[The irony of tyranny is that the worst tyranny is the voluntary surrender of freedom.]
[The irony of tyranny is that the worst tyranny is the voluntary surrender of freedom.]

But sanity is tied to belief in truth, and who defines truth and thereby sanity?
The salient crux: no one transcends belief, no one is omniscient; there is only agenda; there is only those in power with more ability to influence belief. And sanity, oh sweet sanity, is owned by the worst possible demographic: power lusting egomaniacs.

Maddening. Enough to drive you mad.

And what are you left with when sanity in the face of absolute aloneness renders you as good as insane? Or what's worse your loneliness finally drives you insane?

Defy, defy, defy sanity; embrace, embrace, embrace your own wild ideals.

Depravity, the Great Equalizer

I was calling it an ineffable sadness, but I heard that it was called "poetic despair."
...Depressive slump works, too.
They descend erratically, the spells, like a staggering drunk, completely unstable and untrustworthy. And completely sickening. If his fix is alcohol, mine apparently is dauntless, zealous, unmitigated self-sabotage. Makes your head swoon and reel. [But it's more fun to participate in the pain than to let it slap you around!]

And then it lifts, remarkably, miraculously, and unreasonably. And I am painfully aware that I am at the mercy of the same cosmic force that governs every single other member of humanity, alike. No different.

"Pain is worn so beautifully on other people."
Oh, if only we were all other people. Then wouldn't we be such glamourouslittlebabydolls.

Poetic despair. It must have been said about other people. I think mine has something to do with my misanthropy. My disgust at Valentine's day, at weapons of mass destruction, at Christians oozing with self-righteousness, and above all else, at this sexual, alcoholic, drug-binging, hedonistic nihilism that neither class, nor location, nor time does escape.

Depravity, The Great Equalizer.