28 March 2012

Fist

freud.reflection

You always love the one you hurt – it’s a matter of adrenaline, it’s in the blood. Freedom – violence means freedom. Just for that moment you endorse your pain – suffer the little death wrought with nervous fear – violence is fear – violence is no good, but violence works. The shock of the real – the rude awakening - a punch on the nose isn’t so sore – a slap in the face is more shocking than painful. The pride hurts more than the flesh. For the victor justification, for might is right, for the victim humiliation and a stricken ego – wounds that take longer to heal than bruises and cuts. A pair of black eyes is a badge that screams loser, or at worst innocence. Hunters and gatherers survive in the jungle – martyrs and villains – predators and prey. Our city streets are a Serengeti where the strong predate on the weak – where men can be reduced to animals – where the feral in us is let loose.

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1 comment:

  1. This reminded me of that strange moment of bonding by violence when the victim and the violator become related as in most primal act of nature

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