I have plumbed the nether regions of my inner self and found fears lurking there which surely drive the whole of my being from unseen depths toward unknown ends. These observations have been made possible by stripping away the outer layers of my psyche and probing inward by means of consuming THC or psilocybin in large doses. I have seen the brink of my own madness, and it’s nearer than I had dared to dream. Pain is inevitable. Death lurks around every corner. None of us are safe. Man is only truly saved through the mercy of divinity. I personally ascribe to the belief that Jesus Christ is the redeemer of all mankind and our sole deliverer from sin and darkness.
Existence is pain. We are born shrieking in confusion and agony, and we die whimpering in the same state. God and the devil are real, and I am beleaguered constantly by terrifying visions of loss and demise. I no longer trust my memory, and I can feel the past, like an illusory veil, coming unwound as I lose what sense of identity I have kept, floating idly in a lengthy fever-dream waiting to awaken, and hoping I won’t be worse off having done so.
I sense the end is very fucking nigh – or if not the end, an end. But an end to what? I feel lost in an unfamiliar and abhorrent world where blood-soaked nightmares and murderous devils abound in excess: I mean this in both a literal and figurative sense. In my silent, innermost prayers, I hope that whatever end is coming is quick and as painless as possible. This world is fallen, but there are things worth saving here. I only hope that salvation is still possible.
Towers of Rust 