9:24 a.m. - 2005-08-24
Lie Rant
We are warned that the devil appears as an angel of light. I know this to be true. Larry will readily tell you that he is often mistaken for Jesus, with his downy center-parted hair and gentle manner. Scriptures tumble easily from his fragile pout. His posture betrays the slightest humble stoop, tugging his lanky frame just an inch or two closer to earth. I will tell you that this is all guise. He is Rasputin. He will draw you from the kingdom of light, exacting dear toll for the blind obeyance he commands. He despises your servanthood, all the while playing Cat Stevens, Joni Mitchell. He will feed you poison in a delicate cup, beguiling you with his reverance for your pain. He will make it his business to memorize the subtle shame that has taunted you from a child. His tears have been known to burn. He will conform his words, his smile, his serpentine body to the ache you dare not speak. He will fill the chasm of your deepest untold need, threading his graceful tendrils like an indigo morning glory, choking the life from you under cover of embrace. He is an artist, a poet. A hallucinogen. Like Lucifer himself, an accomplished musician. His haunting melodies stalk your dreams, swirling transcendent into the very fibers of your soul. He is a sleuth, a chameleon winding his way into the unprotected garden. Breathing the sweet nectar of deceit. Appealing to an undetected pride. The original sin. A yearning for the pedestal, damn the price. The false affirmation. The transcient worship of a duplicitous suitor. Homage rare and long awaited, serving to eclipse unearthly skin, damp and cold. The unctuous voice reversing all that had bruised this tender shoot. The corrective gaze that promised healing independent of the grace of God. The lie. You will cry in his arms until you cry at his hand.
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