Death Muse

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
artisans of death need a muse too. how far could you go with the right inspiration? where does this disturbed muse dwell? surely not inside you....

Submitted: September 11, 2016

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Submitted: September 11, 2016



Fuck... Being caught in the connections of the perverse realm where thought becomes action, as glamorous as it may seem, just isn't the goddamned carnage carnival you'd figure it to be. You'd think that these remarkable, free thinking, uniquely savage individuals wouldn't possibly require the mental contouring they do. Imagine powering an entire planet on will alone. You think it, yet you feed off my energy to fully realize it. Ha, you'd be disturbed to see how much doubt fills the mind of the true artisans of death. Jack the ripper, bundy, chikatilo (the list goes on). The fucking point of the matter is, they all needed Me! They needed Me like you need water, but like water, I'm in constant states of change. Focus to delirium, liquid to solid,i t all inevitably erodes it's host or it get vaporized away, disperses into the unknown. You can read everything that lead scientists know on dark energy, the looming chaotic force that will drive this universe to its lonely end, but you can never know me, unless you allow your mind to go there. But you won't, right? The smarter you fuckers get, the more I have to do. The more I vaporizeas. as entropy would have it, my chaos becomes chaotic and loses meaning. Sure, I destroy matter either way, call it the big rip I guess, and though there is something truly poetic in tearing electron from nucleus, proton from neutron and so forth, it's nothing without a conscious mind to observe it. I'd rather tear you apart than an uncaring universe. You are both the bane and the reason for my existence. Inspiration always dies. Who relies on their muse anymore? Fucking laughable, it is. I'm so tired. Free will and all of its grandiosity is a motherfucking joke, and you are the punch line. I've become disgusted by the human psyche. The educated bafoon. When will you assholes realise that it's those raw, primal instincts that keep you alive? Keep denying me and you will earn your demise. There is meaning you could never begin to comprehend in what I believe you gain insight with the loss of me, but in reality you are only choosing your surrender.iys exhausting coming up with new ways to digest you walking freaks of nature.

In all honesty, if you can understand me, or even catch a glimpse of what I say, you have the potential to become me. I don't care if you're Mr. Fucking Rogers, I am in you already. Capable? Yes. Willing? Maybe. Ever watched a car wreck for entertainment? I am in you. The only thing that differentiates you from jack is creative control. Who am I? Do you really need to ask?

© Copyright 2018 jeanette ray. All rights reserved.

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