Book: Songs Maldoror

Give those of you who have read, only experience, derived from pain, but not pain itself. Don't cry in public. You need to be able to pull out the literary beauty even from the heart of death, but these beauties will no longer belong to death. Death here just a random reason. It is not a means but a goal that is not death.

His heart, like poison, soaked with gratitude.

Happened: you killed the Hope!

Where did you steal his eyes? They are strangers, not yours!

To die for the sake of the middle really well; dying, I'll have faith in people that maybe they're not so bad, as long as among them there were such that he was able to forcibly overcome my preconceptions, force me to be terrified and to my delight and fierce love!

Yes it is not the amount of past days is measured by the depth of the mind...

I'm not averse to show off their talents, but do not want to hypocritically hide their vices.

Under his left muscle settled and toads, tossing and turning, tickling me. Looks as if one of them popped up but not up in your ear: it will scrape the mouth of it inside until you penetrate the brain. Under the right muscle lives a chameleon who always hunts for frogs, in order not to starve to death: what is God's creature wants to live. If any of the parties could not circumvent the other, they split amicably and suck the delicate fat of my flanks where I had long been accustomed to. Vile Viper devoured my male member and took his place: at fault this way I became a eunuch. Oh, when I could defend myself with my hands, but they withered, if not turned into a bitch. In any case, one thing is certain: the current of red blood in them stopped. Two small, though Mature, hedgehog gutted my testicles: the contents tossed to the dog, which alms he was very glad, and leather pouches carefully washed and turned into housing. In the rectum got crab; encouraged by my astonishment, he guarded the entrance claws and causes me desperate pain. A couple of jellyfish crossed the seas and oceans: a fascinating hope attracted them, hope they were not disappointed. Their gaze was riveted to the two fleshy halves, of which the human ass, and here, nestled up to the SIM curves and vzhavshis, they flattened them so that where before there was firm flesh, was the filth and slime, two equal, ravnovesnykh and ravnomernykh coma.

What is good and what is evil! Maybe it's the manifestation of one and the same insatiable passion for perfection, which we are trying to achieve at any cost, not rejecting even the most bizarre means, and every attempt ends, to our rage, a recognition of his own powerlessness.

We marvel at the sight of the remains of ancient cities, but much more beautiful on the gravedigger, to contemplate the remains of human lives!

Two weeks to grow nails. And then - oh sweet moment! - grab and pull out of bed a boy who has not yet made his cannon above his upper lip, and, devouring his eyes, pretend as if you want to push back his beautiful hair and stroke his forehead! And finally, when he is not at all, he is waiting to stick long nails into his tender breasts, but so that he does not die, otherwise how can he enjoy his torment. Blood will flow from the wound, it’s so nice to lick it, again and again, and the boy all this time - let it last forever! - will cry. There is nothing better than this hot blood of mine, extracted as I said - nothing but his bitter-salty tears. But didn’t you yourself happen to try your own blood, well, at least lick a cut finger inadvertently? She is so good, isn’t she really, good because she has no taste at all. Now remember how once, when you were overwhelmed by painful thoughts, you hid your mournful, wet face from the eyes of moisture in open palms, and then involuntarily put your hand up, this cup, shaking like a poor schoolboy, who is harassing his irreplaceable tyrant, - To his mouth, brought it up and eagerly drank tears! They are so good, aren't they sharp as vinegar? As if the tears of a woman in love; and still the children's tears taste even more pleasant. The child will not betray, for he knows no evil, and a woman, even a loving one, will certainly betray (I judge, relying only on the logic of things, because I myself have not experienced love or friendship, yes, truly, I would never have accepted either , no other, at least not from people). So, if you don’t mind your own blood and tears, then try it, taste the lad’s blood without fear. While you will be tormenting his trembling flesh, blindfold him, but when you have plenty to scrub him with screams that look like a convulsive wheeze that escapes from the throat of mortally wounded on the battlefield, then pull away instantly, run away to another room and immediately noisy rush back, as if only this very minute appeared to help him. Untie his swollen hands, remove the blindfold from his bruised eyes, and again slug his blood and tears. What impertinent repentance will seize you! A divine spark lurking in every mortal, but reviving so rarely, suddenly flashes brightly - alas, it's too late! The heart is moved and the streams of compassion will pour out on the innocently offended youth: “O poor child! Tolerate such cruel torments! Who could have committed an unheard-of crime on you, for which there is not even a name! You probably hurt? Oh, how sorry I am for you! A native mother would not be more horrified than I would, and would not inflame with greater hatred for your offenders! Alas! What is good and what is evil! Perhaps these are manifestations of the same insatiable passion for excellence, which we are trying to achieve at all costs, without rejecting even the most insane means, and each attempt ends, to our fury, with the recognition of our own powerlessness. Or are these things different? No ... the consubstantiality suits me much more, otherwise what will happen to me when the hour of the last judgment breaks! Forgive me, child, here before your clean, sinless eyes stands the one who broke your bones and tore off your skin - it hangs on you like rags. Whether the delirium of a sick mind or a certain deaf instinct, beyond the control of the will, is the same as that of an eagle tearing its prey with its beak, they pushed me to this atrocity, I don’t know, but I myself suffered no less than the one I tormented! Sorry, forgive me, child! I would like that, having finished the term of earthly life, you and I, having joined our mouths and lips and merged together, would be in eternity. But no, then I would not have suffered the deserved punishment. Let it be better this way: with your nails and teeth you will begin to tear my flesh - and this torture will last forever. And to make this atoning sacrifice, I will adorn my body with fragrant garlands; we will suffer together: I am from pain, you are from pity for me. O fair-skinned lad with a meek look, will you do as I said? You don’t want, I know, but do it to ease my conscience. ” And so, when you finish such a speech, it turns out that you not only abused a person, but also made him feel love for you - and there is nothing sweeter than this in the world. As for the little boy, you can put him in the hospital - because he, the cripple, has nothing to live on. And they will still begin to extol your kindness, and when you die, a pile of laurel wreaths and gold medals will be dumped at the feet of your barefoot statue with an old face. Oh you, whose name I do not want to mention on these pages dedicated to the praise of evil, I know that so far your all-forgiving mercy was as limitless as the universe. But you did not know me yet!

Again it is the will of Providence, I will obey. Let the ashamed looking at me, the misery of his imagination.

If it were me, I would and did chose to be the son of the gluttonous, like a tornado, sharks, and krovojadnye tiger - then I would be less bitter.

Oh, Yes, my soul is locked and bolted in a cramped closet of the body and can not escape to ever leave the shores of the sullen sea of human passions, to not see how vile a pack of troubles and problems relentlessly pursues human herds, sure-footed herds of deer, and driving them into impassable swamps and on steep cliffs, which are abundant in the weary earth. But still, I'm not going to complain. The gift of life - that the blow of a dagger, and I could easily heal this wound, by his own hand, but vowed not to do it.