Unnamed Journal Volume 2 Issue 6 - Page 23

struggling to maintain its union with my divinity. It is an exhaustion so profound that my shell often collapses from the weight of it. This saddens me, but I have become used to it. No one ever said that the life of a god was easy. Perhaps you do not believe me. Perhaps you prefer me merely mad. Caligulia, the mad emperor, killing this and fucking that, and standing on his head and singing dirty songs. That is, I admit, a much easier narrative for some to accept. Because it spares them from having to define their terms. If a man, given absolute power, takes his actions to the absolute, they call it madness. But what is mad about it? If a farmer refuses to farm, he will die cruelly. If a senator gives all his land away, he will become a pauper, and cease to be himself. But if I, a ruler, do everything in my power, to make clear to all that I rule, what is that but the natural and logical consequence? The wolf does not feast upon the lamb because he will not eat grain, but because he is a wolf. And it is an axiom of our people since ancient days that man is wolf to man. QED. But I am prepared to argue my case. Unlike the bleaters who trip from being at my throat to land at my feet, I will define my terms. I will demonstrate my godhood, as any god should. What is a god? A god is that which lives beyond death. And I do not mean that in an esoteric, neoplatonist sense, but in a real sense. Gods may be, and often are, killed, but they endure death briefly before bursting out of it again. Death is their ch