Anti-Christ

Nietzsche alleged that "...one is not 'converted ' to Christianity — one must be sufficiently sick for it."
This is what I have written after having read some of Nietzsche's thoughts in one of his books: "The Anti-Christ"

Jesus (by me)

Drenched in obscure non-truth

Crucifixion

Corroded, hilariously, vile nails

Eroded sunken wood

Perverted pseudo-salvation

Posthumously was He born

Shed his blood was

Wearing a crown of thorns

All the horrid sins performed

He dies every single day

You, the faithful ones

You kill him

Over and over

Over and over again

Overperpetuated pain

Overglorified symbol

Neurotic anti-natural guilt

Distorted irrefutable dogmas

No longer right to doubt

Vicious charity

Ceaseless solace

Brutal love

Undying light

Identity

Amorphous (by me)

Glass-like molten pieces of me
Red-fire incandescent mixed-up pieces of someone
Someone that used to be me
Shattered remains of an unknown unmet personage
Listless remnants of my limbs
Leftovers of who once I was to be

Waiting, hoping, deceiving myself
My bigoted ego
The unbreakable mirror
That reflects nothing, but pain
That shapeless untamable silhouette
That darkens the prison where I stay

Barbed wire around my body and neck
Doing in, doing deep
The stems of the rose of pain
Entangled forever around my brain
Eyeless sound
Fake hatred
Forced love
Untrue feelings, my filthy façade

Where is the craftsman I need
To shape and model my unborn dreams?
Hopelessly awaiting in this illusion
As blurred and diffuse as my confusion
Wild pieces, my jigsaw
The undefined definition
That puzzles me up
And makes my heart want to vomit blood

How many times have I lied to myself? How many tears have been spoiled for the sake of trying to survive? Where have I been led to? Did I get anything worthy enough as to justify so much suffering? If only I could see things clearer…

I am my words, my thoughts… but, are they really mine? Sometimes I feel I am supposed to be someone else’s shadow, to be a mirror of the reality that surrounds me, it’s just untouchable; it looks so distant from here. I am depersonalized. Under a foggy shady crystal everything looks dim and shallow.

Will I be able to turn chaos into order? Will I be able to solve the puzzle of my identity and put all the pieces altogether in the right place? Will I try to, desperately, put myself together while my innermost feelings are dissolving and fading away? This ephemeral hurtful fantasy.

Death

Death (by me)

Hopelessly awaiting
The day I will be reaped
The Greek tragedy’s revival
A whole lifetime seeking
Caught between non-existent lines
Belligerent confrontation
Lightness, weight
Unintelligible divergence
Unimportant choices
Irrelevant corollary
Non-tying artificial burdens

Vacuity
Fear

Worms spitting out saliva
Flesh-disintegration eve
Larvae sprouting out
Swimming
A sea green ocean
Of festering tissue
Liquefied body
Jaws biting
Dismembering
Dissecting

It’s 00:50. I am standing on the threshold of what is going to be an endless night. Everything looks so quite, I am really away from the hectic sounds of people’s murmur. It’s still raining. I can hear no more the droplets crashing against the walls. Even the lurking semblance of the droplets’ dead bodies on the windows has gone unheard. Like serpents of water they vanish, leaving no trail. Under deep silence I remain. There’s nothing else, but my thoughts. An eclosion of incongruity and incoherence arises in me. Inconsistency shows itself, as the hellish choir in my head starts to distort. The voices, my own voice, they get distant. They diminish in strength, they become weaker and weaker, till they get lost. Everything is so quiet, too quite. Only I can feel my thoughts mourning for someone who has past away. Fearing the inevitable and bewailing the unchangeable. I suppose that someone is probably me. I gazed into the abyssal depths of existence and the chaotic whirl dragged me down. I am now the abyss that I was so terrified of. I have touched the core. My existence is naked. I destroyed everything that was me, I destroyed everything I once had. I mindlessly decided to embrace despair and certainty. Death has become into my way of existence, I am at its disposal. Death owns my whole existence. I am dead. Only vacuity will ensue.