The Alibi of a Walking Contradiction (go back »)

Interested in nothing, but curious about everything.
Destroying by nature, but with nature loved.
Humble by manner, but a force of nature by birth.
I have such a wicked streak, and even then, that is an understatement.

I live my life as a walking contradiction with words of faux affection rolling off the tip of my poetic tongue, and series of affliction marring the ground I step off of in my jaunty sway. The fragments of my humanity linger within me like shards of broken glass dwelling within a black abyss that can only inevitably grow larger with morbid despair. I care not too much to put the pieces of my humanity back together, nor hold onto them, because I am giving way to madness, and simply enjoy every single moment of this delicious insanity that leaves the blood in my veins alive, and an acerbic, yet addictive taste upon my tongue.

Carrying many names and living many lives, I know how to play my cards, and turn the tables in my favor. Red, black, and white are my favorite hues, and I happen to dote the Ace of Hearts more than these dimwitted creatures that walk upon two legs. My comrades underestimate my virtues, and my enemies (if I had any) overestimate my flaws. 'tis the perfect equation in winning their hands.

If I were to lead you into a room in my heart (or its remnants), you would stumble upon a wardrobe where within lies thousands and thousands of masks, each with their own intricate and convoluted designs. You would stand before these faces and stare into these hollow eyes that would make you feel as if wisps of your soul was being drunk away in gracious sips. At times, even I am fooled by my own facades, so could you imagine how little to nothing people know about me?

Little children, I smile in glee at your naivety and foolishness. You believe in love, in faith, in hope, but little children, do you not see? Nothing and no one will ever save you in your darkest hour. The only power that matters in this world is the power to cause pain, to hurt and kill, because if you cannot do both, then you will always be subject to those who can.

I am the one that lurks in the shadows that dance against the walls. I am the one with the glistening strings tied around my deft fingers which I can pull at whim. Manipulating humans and playing with puppets is a past time of mine that I am quite fond of; breaking, destroying, and obliterating prey is a duty I take pride in.

I have no enemies, no predators, no opponents. Absurd, you say? Well, you see, when a threat presents them before me, I learn to love them. Yes, instead of hating, dreading, and loathing them, I love them. I love them and understand them, and in that very moment I love them, I destroy them. I grind and grind them until they do not exist.

Was the above a figure of speech or words meant to be taken literally? It would be quite dull and palling if I told you the answer straight forwardly, but I doubt that you would take in joy finding out for yourself. But if you insist...well, perhaps you would give me something to play with.

I do not only destroy my loved enemies; I destroy loved anyones. I cannot be loved. I cannot be understood. It would quite a pandemonium if someone were to ever adore a person like me. Complicated beyond human words, incomprehensible beyond human minds, I remain a mystery that becomes only more twisted and murky with each passing second.

In order to gain what I desire, it would be best not to stand in my way. Comrade or foe, it all goes down to either me or you, and in this game of survival, I will always choose me.

What is my gain, you ask?

I strive to gather more strings, and pull them in a wild dance that leaves the sky covered with a wavering spider web of shimmering lines. I already have the world held by a thread, and I spin the stars by my fingernails. Surely, it would not be too hard to also hold the lines to human beings. All I need to do is cast a line with a hook liberally washed in intoxicating yet fatal poison. There are things I need to do, but why not create chaos and calamity in the process? It makes things much more entertaining, at least for me.

Little children, you are my puppets, and I am the puppeteer. Little children, you are the spiders that crawl across my desk, and I am the curious child or aggravated adult that takes your last breath away in one simple squish of a finger.

 Does this not sound like God and Man?

Little children, go to your mothers, go hide under your bed, because you see, I am intending on taking each and every one of you out.

Adieu,
The Walking Contradiction