exactly like Erich von Stroheim in the movies, the man you love to hate.
who needs that, you ask?
people. places. lovers (each other of course). cinema, poetry, art. kings and empires. society.
hatred, and fear - those very ugly yet powerful forces which manipulate us so, that we never seek to question what lies outside, to doubt who we are and what we stand for. the principle devices for the construction of our slave collar which we so proudly wear...
but who needs that, when you can summon all of your righteous fury into condemning the one you hate. and that's the handle isn't it?
an end to magick and fairy tales. an end to truth and justice.
The gallows pole for the errant philosopher, the misguided idealist, the criminal prophet and the poetic terrorist. The heathen God and his faithful priest.
It is not so hard to imagine Eden waiting with her gates open for them. Our saviors -
ripped to pieces, their death the subject of casual conversation over cocktails at some boutique coffee shop.
like Agaue arriving home amidst great ceremony and celebration, carrying the head of her own son, Pentheus.
