ambiguous

much that is evil
can be beautiful — witness
the sound of the name
— music as it rolls off the
tongue — Judas Iscariot

In my dreams last night, I seemed to be some kind of naughty child, creating chaos, and desperate to exert my will no matter what. It was a horrible feeling, knowing myself excluded from the social bonds of love which I was deliberately kicking and rebelling against. Christian theology contains the idea of hell as a state of exclusion from God’s love. And it was a bit like that. I’m not sure where or why I started thinking about the beauty of evil. It was always going to be a poem about evil in some shape or form. The idea that evil has some kind of value to be sought out and cherished, runs so deep in my thinking, this is just one instance of it.

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