What will they take from us? Our non-productivity. Our idleness. Our worklessness. Our empty time. Our staring out of windows time. Our wandering nowhere time. Our being suspended time. Our dissipation time.
To shut down our consciousness. Our awareness. And our self-consciousness. And our self-awareness.
How hard it is to be human. How hard, still, to be human. And we’re the last humans left, pretty much.
We’ve been too alert for too long. We need rest. We need to stop the engine. Stop the wheels turning.
Is there something wrong with us, or something right with us? Have we taken a wrong turn, or a right one? Is this a cul-de-sac or an opening?
Where have we lead ourselves? By instinct. By cussedness. By stupidity. By antinomalism. By sheer, blind luck.
We hold our gaze on the future. We know what’s coming. Prophets, of a sort. Heralds, of a sort. Apocalypticists.
Dread … is that what we feel? It’s deeper than that. Ur-dread. World-dread. Deeper-than-the-world dread. Existence dread.
Dread: that word. That heavy word. Dread: is that what we feel? Is it heavier than we are? Are we crushed by dread?
We’re specialists in this. In feeling these things. This is what we do. We’re made for spiritual environments that would crush anyone else. We’re made for spiritual climates that no one else could endure. We read the darkest books. We entertain the nightmarish thoughts. We’re used to nihilism. To Gnosticism.
We speak fluent apocalypse. We’re acclimatised. Accustomed. Like people who live at high altitude. We’re used to the abyss. Used to the pits.
We’re happiest in philosophies of the abyss. Of the greater darkness.
Among inhuman philosophies. Anti-philosophies. Ugly philosophies, from which you want to turn away.
We live in extremity. In mental extremity. In psychic extremity. We endure these … states. Like some kind of training. Like some mad, dark asceticism.
We know black waves will break. We know the black tide is coming in. We know black skies are coming. We’re ready.
Work in Progress 