The world is but representation,
A reality refined, forged into reflective abstract consciousness,
Philosophical Discernment now dawned upon me,
Can I know the sun or the earth?
Is there only an eye that sees the sun?
And a hand that feels the earth?
The world is but will…
My sight stretches before me as an all seeing bleeding arc,
Yet all I feel is the slow peripheral damnation of the masses,
Writhing and wilting in bloody ignorance,
I've observed the perceivable life passage of vermin,
And their boring out of putrid abscess,
For them I crave oblivion …
I comprehend the Abyss…
No sight through weeping…
No sight through the mind of a god…
Embrace futility wholly, with your mind,
The naked world shows to me the stains of a miserable creed,
…Our natural apex of dark and lurid amentia,
The devil sitting inside your skulls…eluding you,
What of these evils that you seek?
Those fragile mortal treasures born far from enlightenment,
For which a man would be compelled to bleed.
To chase tails and tongues to suit advancements needs…These elude me,
My body is sickened…
My mind is in pain…
Diminished and in bitter affliction now torn apart,
Sickened deeply by the conflagration of internal and external torments,
Enflamed and mutilated neural matter made diseased by that…
Which is perceived through such hating eyes,
The world you have made…
It is not my home…
It is now but corrupted earth, in which to be buried, unrecognized beside you.
For the impure torments you have suffered discerned elements to bare,
I have suffered also, for I am conjoined to that which you are incapable of perceiving,
Eyes that hate,
Watching from among you,
Appalled now to behold,
Cyclical depressions,
Grinding the joy from my soul,
Look towards infirmity beneath vistas that mans hand has raised,
And plummet through abject sorrow,
Perception born from living and knowing,
That which knows all things and is known by none,
I shall comprehend the abyss,
Open your eyes,
My eyes open,
My mind set free and ablaze,
My hands steeped in the blood.