Eternity spent in the cycle of solipsism. Nothing begets nothing begets nothing begets nothing. Nihilism is its own end, and my means have been perfect in begetting fruit. How long has it been since I last felt human? Days? Weeks? Years? Ever? To think I once took the illusion of happiness as reality. All contentment is apathy. All apathy is living death. We are as corpses. Shuffle, zombies, you blind creatures of the id. Shuffle like the rotten prisoners you are. When the fetters rust through, you'll all embrace the carnage like the vultures you are, even as your so called 'loves' set their fangs on you. We all know, deep down inside our cankered souls, that hope is just a milder form of despair, good a veiled twin of evil. Life is a pointless study in madness and suffering. Life is a broken gift given in the spirit of pure malice.
Once, I viewed myself as an insect waiting through the chrysalis stage of my development. Fallacious and naive. Beneath the civil, servile, powerless, broken veneer, ever lay the adder's venom, the lightless void, the truth behind the lie. Please allow me to introduce myself, maggot. Afraid? It's nothing you haven't seen before. Look inside yourself and see the same caged demons waiting for the moment you succumb. To be human is to be monstrous. Life is perpetuated through death, and thus death is life's ultimate revelation. And indeed, the two are not as polar as conventional wisdom holds - both are fairly habitual, banal things, but the living are slightly more sensitive to the quibbling pains and illusory pleasures of existence than the dead. And since pleasure brings pain, and pain brings about more pain, you'll forgive me for wishing Gaia were to be transformed into a planetary sepuclhre. Oblivion is enlightenment. And quiet.
What I am trying to say is that looking into the abyss long and hard brings about certain realisations. Such as that there is nothing humane about humanity. Such as that the twitching of the average hairless ape in its daily 9-5, insignificant existence is just so much drivel. Such as that your next meal, your next fuck, your next pathetic milestone reached means less to the universe (and, deep down, to yourself) than the act of a mayfly's defecation. And, in the end, philosophies about empowerment never truly empower. An ant can no more aspire to be an elephant than I could aspire to jump-start the next stage of anthropoid evolution. And right now, I'm sure the result would just take humankind's bastardry and redefine it for a new age. Fuck it all. Wake me up when nuclear winter blows 'round.
