+ Mortality Acknowledged +

~In the afterlife of senses, right next to the virulent half-truths that populate every corner of reality, I am tempted to live my life. As I have done for the millennia of wasted seconds that is the reality of this and every other life lived and died on this planet throughout history. Ever since man became capable of thought as a precedent to action he has felt the need to exist in a vacuum out of which the only release is the sexual one or a violent one and everybody knows that nothing screams independence like the penetration of another. Weapons or sex organs, the choice is always ours but dominance is always the end game.

Really, what choice do we have when faced with the urge to regurgitate the mistakes of ancestors lauded in death but rarely respected in life? What recourse do we seek when the angel and the demon blend into one winged dual-headed beast that neither encourages piety nor evil but instead presents the half-truth reality of the outcomes from each approach? She loves me? She loves me not…? Who cares really when there are so many others one could impregnate? And what of the bastard child left unfed and unattended at the edge of the street that the parents can fence-sit about the child’s being hit by speeding vehicles and whether they wish for it or not?

Wandering through the insidious soulscape that threatens to debilitate as effectively as it  should nourish I feel the tug of crime, forbidden passion and the overpowering urge to decimate all opposition that I might rule uncontested and unconcerned. Of course, that would require me to have the moral fortitude and physical strength to pick up that gun or flip open the switch on the detonator for the nuclear weapon. Neither is a reality or a possibility in a world torn in two by the forces of moderation and fundamentalism. And even the moderation is a type of fundamentalism that could preach the vegetarian (or worse, vegan) lifestyle for example and frown upon all that do not espouse its beliefs.

It will all come to naught. We know this already. Nobody lives for ever and you cannot take it with you when you go. But lives are lived in misery that stems from seeking more than you can consume and groups of individuals thrive upon denying the rights of others. This is me, this is what I need and I do not care who else gets trampled in my mad rush for the brass ring. This is neither new nor unheard of and I can only assume that there have been others before me who have been distraught over the possibilities that seem to present themselves when the world decides to follow the path to certain destruction.

Yet I rest easy in the knowledge that the planet will survive and new species that evolve from the ashes of our own will commit the same mistakes we have or other we might have been unable to comprehend and in so doing they will prove an important point – only the truly immortal are incapable of comprehending destruction. The rest of us, mortals all and painfully aware of this fact, are doomed to keep destroying until one day, some day, it is our turn to be destroyed.


Everything else is fluid.

Virtually yours,
Damian Dior
[Fiction 365].