Beauty in Blood
or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Dirt - a companion piece to Aesthetics and Ideology
A boy in his bed - he’s eaten a mushroom, and it’s gone straight to his head.
Enveloped in darkness, the light of consciousness shines - imagination takes hold - the animals he’s trapped, become his pets.
A demon appears, eyes beaming with hunger.
Teeth sharpened to razors, smile wide as a house. The little boy quivers, shy as a mouse.
What does one do, when faced with such terror?
I present you a choice: There are two boxes. Each containing a story. One box holds a story with a protagonist who has no problems to speak of. His mind a perfect picture of sanitized sanity. He wakes up, goes to work, comes home, kisses his wife, and goes to sleep. Not a care in the world. The end. In this fictional world all diseases are cured, all violence has stopped - both depicted and real - drugs have been eradicated, sex is for the sole purpose of procreation, the books, music, movies and art that reveal anything but what the authority on standards and practices deem acceptable are gone. The demons swept under the rug and hidden from sight. Nothing ever changes. Nothing is tainted. Happily ever after - the animals silenced for good.
In the second box: ?
Beneath the dreams of a world that is clean - squirms a fear of the dark that wishes to be seen.
There exists an arrogant impulse to wage war with the Gods - to upset balance in favor of loose morals. We spit on our demons and expect compliance in response - little do we realize all they want is a friend. Play, little puppet. We are wood on a string. Strengthen your muscles- go out - and be seen.
Frightened at first - the boy he thinks quick:
‘Strange little creature - what do you want of me?’
The boy laughs in its face - amused at the sight
Defused and understood - the demon takes flight