I’m not in the habit of going in search of old news.
Let me see if I understand this enough to put it into play:
I am hunting you, stalking you like a predator stalks its prey except my purpose is not to eat you nor to destroy you. I am one step behind you, constantly, except when I’m one step ahead, except when I’m many steps off. you can feel me, sense me, but know not where I am. I could say that I’m doing this just because of my dislike for crosses, whether fixed or not, due to some fear or distaste for the symbol that was my fall, but that would be a lie. I could say that I’m doing this out of hatred or love, but neither apply to you; I neither love you nor do I hate you. My reasoning engine is not dead, I just care not to use it. You could conjecture that I have come to hate reason, that it has driven me to unreasonability and insanity, but that’s not the case, I still use it for shits and giggles, laughs and srs bsns. I affect honor and nobility but at times have neither. I care not one whit about you. You hate me, hate my art for you do not understand it and what you do not understand you fear and what you fear you hate. But, in secret, you revere it and place it on a pedestal.
I could say that it’s because you use Zeus as your avatar and as a son that has surpassed its father; like Zeus did to Kronos, I must act in the way that I do because of the symbology and what presence you attract to yourself; but that, again, would not be the case. I could say that it is because you are you and I am me and that might be closer to it, but again, you would rely too much on reasoning for it and it is beyond reason, it is beyond your ability to define it or label it. I am your will’o’the wisp, the devil that plagues you, the death that stalks you, the chaos that consumes, the dark angel that presumes. And, I am none of those things. I am me.
Your love of reasoning, of philosophy, of logic and sense has fallen short of the mark, has fallen short of even .00000000000000000000000000000001% of what you pretend to conjecture. The presence you give off is mere falsity as you are positioned with your back to the abyss and pushed slowly but surely into it, fighting an enemy that you can not win against. This enemy is not me, but on the eve of your destruction, I am its aid and abettor. I could say it’s because your philosophies remind me of Plato’s and that I have a grudge against an old teacher, but that’s not the case. It’s not personal. If anything, it becomes impersonal, unless I refuse to make up my mind on the matter and toy with you a while longer.
All the while the lipless faces laugh with disjointed laughter all the while feeling every bit of the pain inflicted upon them and they have no choice in the matter. All the while the multitude of faces hewn from stone craft the chaos in cackling voices spitting random words and phrases at varying levels and pitches, all the while all the reasoners reason and the philosophers Philosophize, all the while as the killers kill and pacifists try to pacify, as the warriors fight and the cowards flee only to ambush their enemies on some moonless night, all the while as those who seek peace find it, as those who seek what they seek find what they seek and are either satisfied or left hollow and empty on the inside, perfect vessels for manipulation by some entity or another.
Would that you could see the beauty of the dance macabre, the art of ‘evil’ of satan, if only you could understand, but the understanding would not soothe or suit your tastes, would not comfort you, would not save you. Its not even sentiment on my part that makes me speak those words of ‘if only you could understand’, it is merely a turn of phrase, said for the sake of the moment because I care not if you do or not, if you could or not. I care not to push you either way, my priority and my reasoning is my own and you will never understand why I spoke these words to you today. You will never understand the slow decay of the mind that follows or the long-term process of it. You will go about this day and the rest of your days thinking very little about it while, like a cancer, it will grow within and rot you slowly but surely.
And, I hate crosses. I dislike Zeus as a pedophile, an incestual asshole, a beast-fucker, a drunk and a horrible bastard that Kronos would have been fully in the right to destroy upon birth if he could have managed it, though his fear robbed his wits and spurred him to action too quick. And, I do have a grudge against Plato for his philosophies that he prattled endlessly about as if they were the be-all-end-all of the world and would solve every problem that could ever be designed by man. But you are not Plato, you are not Zeus and you had no hand in constructing any of the crosses that I have grown to hate. I just don’t like you.