MEET HIM IN SHIBUYA’S PURGATORY. // @catncore
❛ if you have somethin’ to say, then say it, kid. stop lookin’ at me like that if you got somethin’ on yer mind. ❜
this look : of a youth, whose ruptured perfectionism orchestrated his taciturnity / of a heathen, dazed at the loss of his halo, thrown off, forsworn / of a plummeted bird, inwardly ragged and half-way dead, aiming for antagonism and failing the trials of oh so ( dishonorable ) anti-heroism. in effect, one look of a ferocious philosopher was not made to give comfort to the victims of its observations, neither be it crafted for the enjoyment of what may meet with it. only re-wrought by loathing, whether the way he wore it was hope-filled, but now at this point of lies-lived life, out-wrenched.
therefore be mad, be bold. for he, too, promised mercilessness in his own ( hypocritical ) critique ; as his judicial perception took countless of grey-scale photographs of all the ghosts between the silhouettes & the transparence of its oblivious people, whomever so tolerated their mindless routine : and they roamed, and they gabbled, and they bemoaned themeselves and their suchness. their piteous agony risen like city-smog from their gaping jaws ; and had their lives not hunted them down to this limbo of re-experienced loops ?
here he lingered among them. witnessed more triteness than he cared for ; as spectator of the damned, one fool villainizing the next, wandering blindly through that claustrophobic crowd. shoulder to shoulder, then a roar, then pointed fingers. oh, dub it tiring to watch, how they succumbed to the traffic noise nigh to this purgatorial cross-road. shouts over to another, over to another / disharmonious hysterics and witticism / internal yearn for the gallows. he studied their agenda blankly, every singular detail scratched into the heart, imprinted into his decreasing saneness, to blame them later on when time had come. proceeded in his world-analysis like a telescope’s lens. except this one dug itself somewhere eleven dimensions underneath, to unfold and unravel nine abyssal stages ; revealed more truths about those distorted human-fits. godless psalms unspoken, and hymns unsung — his very personal one was of an exposure, that hell compared so much to heaven due to its proneness to set anything alight.
by the discovery of you in sickening morale masses, he studied your agenda. his eyes, unsettlingly still. not entirely enlightened ( read : ignited. read : cremated ) for the holy purge to be seen. no irises of that knowledgeable insanity-color he sought. for that, he came here by part-willfulness, and by part-paradox. thusly, hear the almost raillery against the laughable irony of two holy monsters and their soon to be sparked arguments. “ did i happen to upset you ? my apologies. “ // but yours : oh, he knew those eyes burned holes into his fading matter, hence distinguished the amount of thousands of pupils. angels and their watchfulness — his own damaged one, as well — was so terribly familiar, he could’ve shuddered by the stalking discomfort to creep over him, if he wouldn’t return the intensity so actively. “ indeed, something quite strange captivated me here. — i haven’t imagined hell to be this … mundane. that is, if hell already begins here. ”