Hermes' Shadowby Tom Hirons |
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Today, I am the dark angel. Not Hermes delivering Persephone from the underworld, but the one who soars down, takes Eurydice back where she belongs. Who did she think she was, anyway? She left Orpheus to do all the work; who can blame him for faltering? I'd have done it on purpose. Fuck Apollo and all his weightless radiance. Fuck Zeus, Aphrodite and the rest; I'm going to Hades to hang out in the darkness. I'll find Ares and put barbs in the swords, twist the tips of spears and maybe crack a can around Hecate's crackling, cackling fire. They can look for me in the whore–house and the gutter–lined bars; I'll be shattering myths, breaking bottles over Eros' curly head and fucking guileless nymphs between sheets of blood and whisky and poisoned dreams of hope. They wanted a messenger, but wanted to pick the message; I'm going to stalk the motorway with apocalyptic declarations strapped to my glorious body; I'm going to wait by marriage beds and proclaim the supremacy of infidelity, deceit and the thousand petty deaths of the soul. Fuck the healers who dare not heal; Fuck the orators who peddle lies of light; Fuck the winged messengers; Fuck the heroes and their muscle–bound impotence; They can come gold for all I care; They'll all die in their time and I'll be there, laughing. I'm going to torture poets, break musicians strings and chase the Muses to hell. I'll break canvases, shatter stained glass and poison the well. I'm going to make vinegar from the golden apples of the sun. Today, I am the dark angel; The god of boundaries has his face turned towards the shade; I will usher souls into darkness and they can fend for themselves; I am sick of the light and all its insubstantial promises of salvation. Saved, from what? For whom? You are all free, already; I am tired of your constant, mortal misapprehension of your life. Look for me in the shadow, the gutter and the nightmare. Today I am the dark angel; If you want to wake up, then do it yourself. | |
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