I Death, Destroyer of Worlds

And so it is. Onward comes another tomorrow in this designated Purgatoria, the transit lounge to the great beyond. Beyond what? I dare not venture a guess. It is the now that troubles me most. Blissful ignorance of that infernal circle of knowledge, of was and will be, I violate the protocols of passage and only imbibe the stasis of my existence with a solemn vow of solitude, insistently convinced of my own demise and dismissiveness of the same.

It is not vanity. Nor arrogance that defines what I say here. It is the only permissiveness I allow myself. My perverted pleasure of control and order. Here I shall unravel all that my Chaos brings forth, the worst that I have to offer. The worst dressed in pretty little words, of lyrical interpretations and gross exaggerations, in iterations of intentions and consequence of conscience (or lack there of?). It will be the question that shall forever permeate my darker, shallower self; the question of Human divinity or Godly apathy. Neither as fulfilling as my indifferent sublimity.

Hence forth where these pages will scroll, shall stroll my secrets for all to see. Or none to see, for nothing was as boring as the 'I' of someone else. But as with all 'I's shall exist this one as well, awaiting judgement not for the best of my being but for the worst. No measure or quarter shall be drawn, for it is hard to love that which you fear to become. And will become, for transcendence lies in embrace not reticence.

The change will be forced and violent. With blood and gore of slivering promiscuity, such that shall seem a naive attempt at evil. But its neither, evil nor naive, but informed and heartfelt, only lacking purpose. The 'I' shall be alone, with neither consonant or vowel before or after to depend on. This 'I' will carry on.

'I' will evolve,

'I' will survive,

'I' will subdue and

'I' will Prevail.

But I will not survive.

Come forth and see.

I am become death, destroyer of worlds.