Have you ever felt such that what is just a vileness of time, is infact the only manner in which it can appeal to you? That being inherently nefarious, while in black and white may be revolting, yet in the tumult of all the shades that it guises itself, in, that is what draws us to it? Maybe being all good is not what Man innately desires. A twist of the pernicious, and that too very insidiously sprinkled. Please, no straightforward evil, lest it tear away the veil of innocence and adroitness with which I cover myself before I sleep every night.
And yet my haunches hurt. As do my guts. All that is toxic, is indeed so. And it comes out. Agonizingly. Violently. Painfully. Excruciatingly so. Manifestations of the very essence of which it is made. Bloodied, gored, skewered. And even as tears. As salty as the ocean, and just as powerfully wilful.
I think it's relative. In the sense that at some point of time, I really do feel like Superman. At other points of time, it's as if I am on Kryptonite. And then some moments are just crazy enough to make me Lex Luthor. And maybe it makes most sense, because although Luthor was in a prison, no one could ever imprison his mind and its machinations and its sheer genius. Uncannily, and unwittingly, Superman always emerges victorious. But credit goes to Luthor, for making Superman struggle to be what he is. Hence again proving that only through the whimisical vagaries and vicissitudes of evil and darkness are goodness and light born and sustained.
I'm not sure what I am writing here. As a writer, I am supposed to give the readers something that is worth their time.
Point noted. Duly.
- Vinaykrishnan.
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