• Sometimes I wish I could be anybody else.
    I wish not to remember one moment of my life.
    I wish to awaken with a different body,
    a different identity,
    a different world.
    A fair world.
    A world less cruel.
    Such worlds do not exist,
    at least not for me.
    My wish is for naught.
    Devour to survive;
    so it is.
    So it's always been.
    I have devoured
    more than my fair share.
    I have consumed wantonly,
    lustfully,
    unapologetic.
    My desire rules me
    and I am its jester.
    I am the vessel
    of its gratification.
    What am I then?
    Nothing.
    No more than a collection of urges
    attached to a mind
    inhabiting the body of an animal
    defined by an egregious ego.
    My unwarranted self-importance
    is my identity.
    What's important about nothing?
    Indeed; nothing.
    Nothing.
    Nothing at all.
    So placate your thirst for truth
    beneath this refreshing deluge of self-destruction.
    And know that the only thing
    that will bring satisfaction
    is...