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It’s pure catharsis while feeding our monsters, sating our darkest cravings, reaching for that elusive taste of ecstasy while the water cleanses the filth.
We burst above the water, gasping to fill our aching lungs, and her shattering orgasm grips me so fucking hard, I release deep inside her, clinging to her the way she clings to me, obscenities falling fierce between us.
She buries her face in the crevice of my neck as she pulls in air, her body still locked around mine. Her hand cups the back of my neck. “You’re the only one,” she whispers.
In the aftermath of our lovemaking, I’m the one shaking.
The architect of chaos magick wrote:The discovery of one’s true will or real nature may be difficult and fraught with danger, since a false identification leads to obsession and madness.
When the chaos magician attempts an extreme metamorphosis, he cannot deceive himself, no matter how dark the soul he encounters.
For her, my muse, my sweetest epiphany, I strove to alter my nature, to be what she needed.
But she’s the seer. I only exist when observed by her. My nature was never mine to determine.
Man. God. Devil.
The choice has always belonged to her.
14
DARKER SIDE
Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.Let these harmless creatures form a mass, and there emerges a raging monster.
CARL JUNG
HALEN
If you fall far enough into the void, there is no longer an up or down. It’s the loss of equilibrium that impairs us. We become trapped in the darkness, suspended in the shadow.
It’s not the falling part that scares me.
It’s the never coming up.
This dark silhouette of our psyche has different names, such as the repressed self, the alter ego, the id. As we delve below, we tend to describe our confrontation with our darker side metaphorically: Journey to the underworld. Overcoming our demons. Dark night of the soul. Or my personal favorite: Wrestling with our devil.
Which explains how these dark aspects of ourselves can morph into complexes.
Essentially, complexes are splinter psyches often caused by trauma or emotional shock. Complexes can inhibit our purpose and even our memory. When one is overpowered by a complex, it’s referred to as archetypal possession.
Before Jungian psychology achieved recognition, Robert Louis Stevenson penned a story about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, carving a figurative scalpel through the psyche as the author wrote:man is not one but truly two.
An internal war waged between the good and evil of Jekyll’s character as the repression of Hyde fed his shadow side until it consumed. Thus paving a dark and disturbingly accurate portrayal for Jung’s shadow self.
The archetypal shadow is, at its core, a source of wicked.
Sometimes, just the attempt to draw a breath is painful, like gasping for air beneath the iceberg, my lungs filling with frigid water.
Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve already stopped breathing. My reality is disfigured, and I want to look to the people who love me to find my way up, to see my reflection in their eyes.
My demon found me at my worst; that’s who I am to him. A dark muse. Seeing the reflection of myself in Kallum’s eyes is a terrifying loss of equilibrium.
I fear falling too far into the void.
I’m clawing my way up as the painful reminder of experience comes rushing back, and with it the sounds of violence.
Warmth touches my face, and I fight to stay in this serene place right on the fringe where those blissful few seconds of peace remain. But too soon, I’m wrenched out.
