A frightening thought.

we do things, bad things.
Before we venture into the world of deviancy, the ideas of black and white are clear in our heads.
When we start to participate in the evil we’ve been so long conditioned to fear, revile we lose the compulsion to hate it. Sin and debauchery, in the actual act, is more pleasurable than anything on the planet. 
It is liberating, there are no cold judging eyes in that moment. we dont see the consequences. We just live. our actions are outside ourselves. We realise its not so bad.
But, that is just part of the narrative.

while we partake, while we kill. while we inject that exhilirating rush that feels like an out of body experience, something else is happening, oh yes.

we may not notice it at first. but we will. and we'll say oh, its not that bad. like that single errant thread that begins to tell us that the clothes are growling old. we dont replace it. we are too busy enjoying the moment. until the whole fabric unravels and we are naked and exposed.

then there is a second kind of fear.
 the fear to face our actions. we dont think about it even. we evade our failures, we never accept it and think that everyone is overreacting. until someone forces us to own up and stop making the excuses.
the myth of adam and eve. the children that played in the mud. enjoyed it but never saw their filth until someone else pointed it out. even when they were, they still never owned up completely. they pointed fingers. 'it was the woman that you gave me'. 'it was the serpent'.

When they indulged, they loved it. they burned with carnal passion. The same passion unravelled the fabric of their flesh and they were naked. They lost their glory. Now, the cold wind of shame chastices their exposed skin. The wind judges them