1200x630bfThink of the word; roll the word around your tongue. There is some metallic after-taste to it. Like a drop of blood in your mouth. An encounter. A word made of Latin “in” and “contra”. A meeting of adversaries. Do you come across your opponent outside before you have discovered him inside, or vice versa? Offer me an opposition, I say, and I shall move the earth.

We keep on looking for the things that have a potential to destroy us the way we are, make a change in the elusive structure we call “personality”. We wait for them impatiently, search for them with all our senses. Are those things to be found or to be created? Does the rendezvous with the devil happen only to reveal what has already been there?

What is underneath the costume you wear every day? That motley masquerade of yours? Sometimes I strip down to the animal in me, it has nothing but a death/love drive on its mind. I cannot follow both instincts, so I have to choose which one of me I encounter right now. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. First you get to know your instincts, your inner beast, admit the desires. However alien they seem to be, these desires are made of flesh and bones, just like their host. The hardest part is to go beyond them and face yourself. What’s the icing on the cake?

I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Actually, it’s all the same. When you get to the core you can only meet chaos. Be gentle to it, gentle and treacherous – like it is your first-born child, like it is your last lover. Otherwise it will devour you. If one of your drives wins over your human essence, you can never get it back. Because you wouldn’t want to. This is what truly meant by be careful what you wish for. The strangest encounter is you, take that mirror off the wall and smash it. There’s always more to it.

Death/Love, death/love, seek/hide. My pendulum abandoned balance many years ago. Come and watch it dancing. Don’t forget to take off your human suit.



How to get rid of a thought/image/sound visiting and revisiting your head for hours, days, weeks? Will it ever become a part of the background again or will it linger until it drives you completely mad? No matter what/who has caused this state, now it is all yours and it’s your responsibility: live with it, wait for it to go away, kill it – whatever you choose.

I tend to prefer killing. Together with the personality of me that fell for the thing. Otherwise, it will murder me, and i still pretend to think of myself as of something precious.

So, everytime I will ride somebody interesting, I will think of you. No, not of fucking you, but of hammering nails into your hands each time my pelvis completes a little action and I go all the way down on a dick. A nail through your left hand, a nail through your right hand, a nail, a nail, a nail. Til I cum. And then such a terrible void will embrace me, oh, you would be proud of me getting to know it. I smoke, and I breath out, and I look on all the nails in my hands.


Love, 2013, Igor Pestov