Fasle are the ideals of modernity
we grow weaker and call it "progress"
we subdue strength and call it "virtue"
we sacrefice ourselves for suburban homes
and german cars
and trophey wives and husbands
and this, this blasphemy, we call "life"
I have grown to clever for your shiny objects and petty distractions
If nothingness is our final destination,
consider this my resignation.