Placating The Beast

 

In everyone there is the beast. As in nature, there is a shadow to every light, an evil for every good. So in man there is an angel and a beast, equal and separate. That’s how it starts, anyway. The ameba child takes everything in. Vacuum on super high. Black hole for experience. A singularity hunger for knowledge. You are what you eat. He beast is what you feed it. The angel is what you let it know.

As you grow, they grow with you. In you is this many parts angel, this many parts beast, only together are you whole. Only in that psychotic symbiosis are you human, Homo Sapien. Education, religion, morals, laws, commandments, "civilized society". It is all about placating the beast. Let the angel loose, leave the beast hungry. A gnawing hunger in your fist. A coldness, archaic and deep, in your chest. Self-abnegating in order to stay the hunger, repel it. Starve it until it is nothing but a shriveled mummified dried up corpse, small enough to hand ‘round your neck on you chain of virtue. Dead? The coldness grows. Heart is frozen. Breathing labored. Thoughts and dreams haunted. Hunger. Cold. Brand yourself a mark for every time the corpse on your neck reached up and choked you. The chill takes hold, so you reach for cleansing fire. Burn back the hunger with searing heat. Let the flesh show what the mind knows. Burn back the cold. Placating the beast. Bleed out the ice water. Placating the beast. Whip the whimpering. Whip the weak. Placating the beast.

                - Dillow