Some find a dark road across boredom to evil, via the stimulant of destruction.
Feeling demonically alive by damage to beauty. Feeling strength against weakness.
Denying final insignificance in the vast delirium of space-time. King on an anthill.
Esteem defending itself in recoil from the profound.
In masochism, where a shamed son can punish himself for his own weakness. Striking at the heart which quaked before power.
In verdicts passed on characters who provoke by wretchedness.
Or order maintained to a point of suffocation, as if to prompt the exclamation: “Any healthy creature would rebel against this!”
Yet such victims may continue to blame themselves for injustices they suffer.
The world seen as a judgement upon those who live in it.
Life becomes never quite possible for the lost.
Their limbo a soul-sickness.
Consciousness that has origins in stress and anxiety cannot simply free itself.
Overshadowed from birth by irrational condemnation, which is internalised
with toxic sensitivity.