Why the Devil Wins

weiming

he wins because all he has to do is wait. Like death, temptation is the one thing we are all moving toward as surely as the sun moves toward the horizon. On a long enough time scale, we all drop to zero, and on a long enough scale flesh calls to flesh, and desire calls to desire.


Kess is Swedish, and red of hair, and willing of heart and cursing my name while calling out on lonely autumn nights for the one who might share her bed. Her friend however is the one dancing with me, hips swaying in rhythm to the sensuous tune that echoes against the walls of that tiny bar.

Kell grins, and kisses her teeth, eyes twinkling behind thinly veiled willingness, a demure air that Korean society has taught her since the cradle mingling with an air...that cannot be named.

The devil wins because he only need wait for you to draw the line between desire and excuse, a bad decision and rationale.

And yet, through my dim drunkenness suspended is that same figure, a shadow inverted on the back of my brain. The a-priori humunculus, aware and yet unmoved by the five colors that blind the eye, and the five flavors that confuse the prefrontal cortex.

Perhaps not so unmoved as to avoid a masturbatory account of the evening, but enough so to put foot in front of robotic foot, and bring me home, this time.

The devil wins because he need but wait.

Splash

Nice.

Is this part of a novel or just some random writing?

weiming

I wish I could write like that for an entire novel. Not to praise my own writing, but because honestly that's pretty much the best I can do (and it's still too stiff and cerebral).

No, I was quite drunk at the time and just wanted to see if my writing made any sense the next day. I would say I held up rather nicely.