Crematoryy
Wandering endlessly
- Feb 12, 2025
- 126
Cast into darkness, I long to merge with it, to dissolve into its formless vastness, so that oblivion may encompass an extinguished being.
I yearn for the silence that preceded existence, the stillness that comes before a name.
No echo, no trace — only the end of motion and memory.
With every breath, I feel the contamination of the real — the world that insists on surviving within me, even when all I desire is to break free from it.
I renounce this world, not out of lucidity, but out of disdain.
May nothingness receive me with the tenderness the world denied me.
For from the world, I inherited nothing but cold.
I was shaped by absence.
I learned to exist without another's warmth, to recognize in the void the only constant source of presence.
Love, when I sensed it, was nothing but a reflection — a shadow cast upon the wall of vacancy; a mirage rising over the desert of longing.
At every attempt to touch, matter replied with silence;
at every plea for shelter, time offered me forgetfulness.
The fault is not mine for desiring, but the world's, for not knowing how to welcome desire.
It denied me comfort, not out of cruelty, but indifference — which is a deeper form of abandonment.
It is not only against men that I rise, but against the very mechanism that produces them.
I rebel against the principle itself that allows for the inequality of experience.
The world celebrates its own continuity like a tyrant boasting of the prison it has built.
The world is not unjust; it is injustice made into matter —
error transformed into structure, chaos disguised as law.
If existence is a mistake, then let it be undone down to the last atom;
let being destroy itself in its own reflection;
let time collapse upon itself until the moment when nothing ever began.
All that exists is residue, failure, the noise of a harmony that should never have been disturbed.
May nothingness reclaim the throne that was stolen from it.
I do not wish to be saved — I wish for reality to dissolve.
And if there is a god, let him hear:
I do not hate you out of cruelty, but out of discernment.
The sin was yours, for conceiving form and calling creation what is only deformity.
I yearn for the silence that preceded existence, the stillness that comes before a name.
No echo, no trace — only the end of motion and memory.
With every breath, I feel the contamination of the real — the world that insists on surviving within me, even when all I desire is to break free from it.
I renounce this world, not out of lucidity, but out of disdain.
May nothingness receive me with the tenderness the world denied me.
For from the world, I inherited nothing but cold.
I was shaped by absence.
I learned to exist without another's warmth, to recognize in the void the only constant source of presence.
Love, when I sensed it, was nothing but a reflection — a shadow cast upon the wall of vacancy; a mirage rising over the desert of longing.
At every attempt to touch, matter replied with silence;
at every plea for shelter, time offered me forgetfulness.
The fault is not mine for desiring, but the world's, for not knowing how to welcome desire.
It denied me comfort, not out of cruelty, but indifference — which is a deeper form of abandonment.
It is not only against men that I rise, but against the very mechanism that produces them.
I rebel against the principle itself that allows for the inequality of experience.
The world celebrates its own continuity like a tyrant boasting of the prison it has built.
The world is not unjust; it is injustice made into matter —
error transformed into structure, chaos disguised as law.
If existence is a mistake, then let it be undone down to the last atom;
let being destroy itself in its own reflection;
let time collapse upon itself until the moment when nothing ever began.
All that exists is residue, failure, the noise of a harmony that should never have been disturbed.
May nothingness reclaim the throne that was stolen from it.
I do not wish to be saved — I wish for reality to dissolve.
And if there is a god, let him hear:
I do not hate you out of cruelty, but out of discernment.
The sin was yours, for conceiving form and calling creation what is only deformity.
