Collapse

*The slow invasion of nothingness. The slow voiding. Is that it? Is that how it’s going to happen? A slow numbing. The poison gradually reaching all the extremities?

There’s not even a magnificence to the collapse. It’s not even some sublime spectacle.

Not yet. That’s not how things fall apart in an advanced civilization. It’s slower than that.

 

Look, the collapse won’t happen all at once. It’s like the fall of Rome. Unless you lived in a city and actually saw the barbarians sacking it, you’d barely know it was happening.

Collapse was slow, you lived in a fancy villa. Gradually, it gets harder to get food. You’re forced to go local. You turn your swimming pool into a pig sty. Your fancy guest rooms into stables.

Your world contracts. It takes a whole. But one day, you find yourself demolishing a wing of your house to build a cow shelter or whatever. It’s the slow fall apart.

No way – this collapse is going to be different. It was escalator up, and it’s going to be elevator down. Like, empty lift-shaft down. Like a collapsing building, falling in real time. It’s going to be bad …

 

We have to find the level of the collapse. To let it play out through us. Just roll through us. Just let it find itself in us. Come to itself in us. Fill us.

 

We’re drinking the collapse – don’t you see? This is liquid collapse.