its dark....

His secret longing is for society, the world to start falling apart; that as it crumbles food air water are slowly depleted, so that humans have to struggle for survival and crave for the most basic of things; so that in that craving, he imagines, we will find that emotion and feel it in its entirety; that emotion which gives meaning to life, which makes life enriching - unfulfilled desires of the most basic nature.

So he wishes that the sun be dimed forever, that all energy sources be depleted so that we cannot and can no longer escape the dark or the cold with those damned lights. So that we may have to crawl and hide, sleep in fear and huddle in the cold; we have to endanger our lives to hunt to eat to feast. And that then love, even love, may become truly desperate, for among the other needs, it surely ranks as a luxury, and perhaps only expessed as a swollen desire.

So in his secret longing, he loves the wretched, the poor and the hungry, and the trampled; for they true. But most of all he loves those dark faces who in that cold night sought both beauty and pleasure; for they were the truest. This secretive dark longing of his propels him to circle in their midst. Circling again and again; round and round again. Before he finally exits his frame of his rational kempt uncorrupted life almost always fearfully. But once again, tonight, he abandoned that frame, unable to resist sharing in the desires of the wretched. They look unkempt, incapable, and almost pitiful; but in the most profound of ways, they were less dark and less craven than his, for in their darkest moment, their desires were at least recognised.