Every day of my life, my father warned me of the dangers of drink. It was drink which unleashed all of man's evil and eliminated the barrier from beast. It was drink that eliminated health and happiness. Drink is danger, drink is trauma, drink is obscenity and humiliation, blasphemy in the eyes of God and excrement in the windows of memory. Drink is serenity's eternal expenditure: instants of bliss for an eternity of violence in the soul.
Trauma is the intrusion in the soul of another soul whose presence makes himself known not all at once but over the days of our lives, and doles out his control's full measure day by day, intrusion upon intrusion, demonstrating ever more masterfully that he, not we, is in control. Perhaps this other soul is a devil or dybbuk, perhaps he's simply another person who lodged within you, or perhaps he's another person burdened with his own dybbuk. But whomever he is, one becomes a spectator within one's own consciousness as the self schisms, and half your mind whispers your true monstrous nature to the other half.
No comments:
Post a Comment