To stars and suns we carry
To superhumans
names in stone
Into the depths of seas of
grand desires
To the thought pure, into
nothingness
Limitless solitude without
numbers and names
Where names a curse no
longer are
The ideal one- the true number
of man
The sick stench of crowded dogs
With their eyes closed
That are looking
into others for gods
Rotting millions
keeping guard
Of their own truths which you
cannot see
A many-headed worm of names
uncounted
Is eating its tail in wretched
self-hatred
Blinded millions on the road to
death
The hunger of self-destruction always
defeats
Raise your gaze- you can't
You won't- it's easier to follow the herd
You suck on an empty bag of words
You
fulfill yourself in a cage
Of your own
blindness
Carry me, my wings of hatred
Above the fear of knowing all other
I
want to see my very own death
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