Nostalgia For Chaos

Blessed are the poor in spirit

For they have but a low awareness of existing

To gauge the depth of life leads to find nothingness

Then let us place among those who don't look for anything

Who blind themselves to not disappear

And the disgust with reality will become bearable

Blessed are the deceased children

For they will never know disillusion

Of a life that is not worthy

Of the promises of childhood

Living in the moment they have died

Innocent and ignorant

Without projecting into useless dreams

Devastated by labour and the presence of others

Blessed are the stillborn

For they haven't learnt anything

The knowledge of this world leads

To glimpse its vacuity

And takes us away from chaos that was our cradle

Let us deny the world of others

Let us deny everything

Let us kill ourselves and go back to chaos

Birth is not the supreme good, I curse it!

Let us flee from it to forget this scourge

This evil behind us and not before

That should cause grief

For it has thrown us out of chaos

We should have never left

I detest this mortal shell that wastes away day by day

All crippled from birth compared to excellence

We are nothing and adorn ourselves with artifacts

Becoming a void decorated with grotesque

Profoundly thwarted, deceived by life for here

This is no love, but a narcissistic desire of seduction

There is no good but a cult of ephemeral beauty

And no great dream that be realized

I miss this moment before I was born

Looking forward to returning to chaos