This destructive part of me is voracious. It’s neverending. And I am figuring out how to direct it.
For you can keep on chasing the same items, blot all the paintings, let the freak flag run wild.
But I just know it’s a spiraling staircase. Seduced by the phantom hovering each step down, each step taken, each step around the descending darkness.
Until you look away from the phantom. To find the light all gone. Stuck in the middle of that darkness.
There’s this destructive force in me that craves for drama, for meaning, for suspense and all the evils.
You can’t be a hero of justice without the villain.
I’m not sure what to do with this force other than refuse outsiders from skewing reality any further.