through feathered pens inked with blood and a scarred soul of overflowing abysmal ideologies; there sits an obscured entity, scribbling metaphors and ironies in a crumpled paper of her chaos, seeking for something out of all nothings.
and here she u...
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i want to die.
i desire to figure what death could offer - if it has, transcendingly, a better proposition than what this godforsaken life could ever have. is it as stygian as the obscurities of a fathomless blackhole? is it a galactic voyage towards the abysmal macrocosm of my idiosyncratic soul? it was a beguiling spark of curiosity, like how damned angels sang the hymn of sinners, bewitching me into feeblemindedly committing acts of blasphemy and sacrilege, all the while descending unto satanʼs hellhole. or like how pied piper enticed me to witlessly follow the alluring sound of his flute until i submerge beneath the riverʼs deafening cries.
is death another life? is life another death?
as an insignificant functioning speck of dust living in this ever-so-chaotic spherical piece of celestial entity, who is also, ironically, a forlorn incarnation of a decaying carcass; i have hypothesized this intriguing conundrum that life is solely a euphemism of death, perhaps a socratic irony, or a dichotomous paradox of these two words sitting on far ends of the spectrum.
that is why i want to die, and perhaps, i already am.
the juxtaposition of life and death unveils their mystified interconnection, like two entwined strings bound to affect one another in each pleasurable thrust. and perhaps, the dictionary have failed in defining life and death as antonyms, considering that death might be just another synonym for life, and life might be just another synonym for death.
aside from the deceased, no one knows - and no breathing entity would ever know. and that is why there is no concrete explanation of this phenomenon to debunk all religious, metaphysical, and scientific theories of the living.
