What proponents shall speak for the humble void?
What claimants seek its worthless solitude?
What masochism imprisons us to the agony of existence?
Do a few sparse memories of long-ended joys
Somehow deride the perpetual damnation of life?
Is the moon, cursed to wander the desolate waste
Made infinitely cured of it's wretched state by
Meteors to torture it and an Earth to force the chains
Is the heart, cast to the role of false love and empty sentiments
Made more whole by a fellow actor of flesh?
I think therefore I am, but what have my thoughts produced?
A world, rotten at its core inhabited by billions of men
Similarly diseased, boiling the carcass of lost dreams and
Living nightmares for an ounce of soup to feed their
Starving bodies at the price of a long neglected soul?
People that care more for grammar than human genocide,
Who pray to a god of forgiveness and burn the halls of justice,
Who toss words like "love everlasting" to wives and bank accounts alike,
Who preach charity and rob their neighbours blind.
These are the brothers of which I alone have willed.
What I once thought was the one article of this illusion
That could genuinely warrant the empty motions of joy
Is now a bloated corpse washed away by omnipotent tides.
The occasional tap against this cage of treacherous reality,
Registers in the Richter scale before my cemented heart.
The bite of passionate teeth on ecstatic skin
Is lost to the numbness of a frigid steel statue.
My eyes seek inviolate truth and thus see blackness.
My ears wish sincerity and therefore hear vacuity.
My heart yearns for love and thus embraces oblivion.
Are two deranged murderers superior to one?
Do a pair of added mistakes magically rectify?
Have two negatives ever bothered to create a value?
When have fractured halves forged a newfound whole?
Is it better to suffer the multitudes of our flaws in seclusion
Or to discover a fellow in punishment and crime?
Is it more noble to carry man's burdens on your shoulders
Or to allow another to be equally crushed by it's weight?
Shall a crazed coupling in the gratuitous orgy of society
Ever rise to the sublime level of lonely, envious pain?
Palaces and shanties are equitable to a ignorant fly.
Lifeless husks and earth-like spheres to the interest of space.
Hulking deserts and gleaming oceans are the same to the cloud.
But myself, to whom this terrifying apparition of life does belong,
Still pursues happiness with unbearable discomfort,
Aspires to wealth with stagnating poverty,
Ambitions charisma with bloody tyranny,
Hopes for power by admitting weakness,
Trumps glorious virtue with revolting sin,
And begs love through self immolation.
What love is this but longing for the abyss?
In the underwhelming finale it is revealed:
All we've worshipped
All we've believed
All we've devised
All we've strived for
All we've fought for
All we've killed for
All we've coveted
All we hated
All we loved
Was emptiness.