Nov 5, 2015, 6:04 PM

The Nihilnaut 

  Prose » Others
2018 0 0
2 мин reading


...when the mind stretches to perceive beyond them,

the nuances of existence undermine my very foundation... time passes the boundaries are closing in;

I'm stretching thin

between all the concepts and notions...

natural programming kills all radical motion;

no ideals or choice: we only exist to reproduce

and propel life

into the unforeseeable.

All the colors: illusory,

cloaking the aspects of grayness;

truth, neither chains nor freedom,

is desensitized and boundless.

It cares for nothing and no one.

It judges all.

Facts are stones in the river.

To move on despite them, we go around.

We are the stream

clenched within the riverbed.

Escapism is all we have,

a permanent cyclic illusion

that desirable states of mind are achievable,

that peace, happiness, self-fulfillment are possible...

We are lulled by recreational drugs and their variants.

We sedate ourselves to ignore, to forget

all the stones in our way.

We are encouraged to poison ourselves,

and we gladly submit to false hopes,

when globally this serves foreign agendas,

and locally it is self-inflicted damage.

All we are is fleeting;

all we do is consume and be consumed,

spent like empty bullet casings

in the blink of an eye.

Nothingness in everything...

the void is omnipresent,

a dimensional well of negative energy

which we feed through our actions.

Our spirits and our will, they are comatose,

kept alive artificially

with our consent.

We were blinded by the colors

as diversity condemned simplicity,

and detail overcame substance.

Thus we lost direction and purpose.

We lost awareness and drive;

disposed of them slowly

along the path of least resistance.

We are slaves to other slaves.

We feed this cycle in contempt,

for we mostly share what we resent.

The river only flows one way

and the most we do is merely delay.

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