Laments from the Necropolis

Laments from the Necropolis


Words that will fade away

Words that will be forgotten

These are our little acts of resistance

For they will never subdue us

They will never dominate us

Little words of resistance

May they rest forever among the stars.



We are wreckage

When has it been otherwise?

And yet among the wreckage we find the will to go on


We are creatures only that

No male

No female

Creatures only that

dwelling on that region between life and death

where no light ever shines

only the dead law of a dead god

tragic destiny to know no rest

to live is to barely be alive

to live is to die



In a prison made of time

of sorrows

of forgetfulness




Unlivable lives

In bodies that don’t belong to us



We are an open wound

It won’t stop bleeding…

Unfinished beings

Claiming to Heaven



Shall we always be like this?

Defeat and humiliation

merely an object

of which they can dispose freely?



So let us cut all ties with this suffocating normality

with the ordinary.

Why struggle

to please that mediocre master called Order?

Let us break our chains

even if we are to burn in hell



We are the children of accident

Children of chance

in the image of hungry dogs

not of that

claiming to be our Lord.

Let us dwell on this pit

with the rest of subjugated creatures

of this wounded Earth



We shall cease to be a walking tragedy


to become a burning flame


that consumes all we call decency



We are wretched, wounded, damaged


And yet...


To think these dejected creatures


can defy the gods!