<Parental advisory: The writer of this column is trying to fashion a new style of (self) hate speech. He must face an immediate ban.>
Have you ever felt so rotten, cold and uncertain about the future that when you close your eyes at night you can't help but
contemplate death? You're at the edge of a dream and beyond it lies the bottomless pit of your soul. You don't want to walk too close to it, not because you're afraid of what you'll see, but because you may want to take the plunge.
Too many times, too many thoughts have ended with pressing an imaginary trigger of a shotgun on the temple and waiting for everything to turn red, blue and white. It is not the thought of suicide, but what makes you crave and shake is a momentary lapse of respite as the giant wheel of the cosmos turns and slowly crushes you under its weight into a heap of thoughts and dust. Bringing finally an end to the agonising fears that constantly pirouette across the mind and burst into tiny blue flames and rise up in smoke till the soot starts to scab over reason and throttle hope.
Sometimes I find there is no God. Like Northampton-born comic book writer Alan Moore writes in The Watchmen: "Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us."
There is no corner on the streets left where a shadow of despair doesn't lurk and there is no room where love or death have not slept. But there is enough sadness in the world that can drown us in its tears. Is there more good than evil? Who makes the transaction? Who sleeps more peacefully at night? Is it the politician, the priest or the prostitute?
How else can you justify war, rape and murder? When the gutters and veins of the city are choked with excreta, bile, blood and semen. Humanity is lying in tatters and dark perversions fill our senses with delight.
This city is not safe from itself. Only now has it seen a glimpse of its true face. If it's not raping and murdering its children and women, it is parting its legs for coin, power and corruption. This city is not new to desolation and it will crumble again and again. And, God will not be there.
Perhaps the world, as we knew it, did end in 2012. Perhaps we're the ones left behind.