A prose poem by Wagner Hertzog
I get out of bed more tired and exhausted than ever. And among the major things I’ve learned in life, there are no human beings capable of understanding my tiredness, which transcends everything that is the most fateful in this world, and outside of it.
For others, perhaps I'm just a slacker. Pernicious ignorant individuals, they will never see me in the highest days. They never heard of anything related to the scream of my animosity, or anything consecrated to the sentimental exhaustion that I have left from this point onwards. And I just don’t want to teach them this eccentric effect of the human nature. Obtuse individuals are mostly irrelevant defenseless patriarchs of nothing.
I understand the pathologies that hurt humanity, and makes existence more degrading, precarious and difficult. The human being, by a legitimate evaluation, is a machine that is always collapsing, be it physical, mental or both, but the vast majority of people are not able to understand this, because they are all irrelevant and ignorant hordes of lethargy, completely devoid of any reasoning ability. One of the fundamental truths about human beings is that, although they consider themselves to be superior, they’re not. For the most part, they are simply animals driven by lust, instinct, primitive conditioning skills, or by the weaknesses of emotional impulses.
The gray eyes of the citizen of dust are looking towards the sordid conflagration of a mindful spirit that is never tired. The criticism is never intended to defy the ordinary principles of a prominent degradation. Everything becomes a latent description of sanity. The universal axiom of stupidity that gets close to the human eye invariably meets the sign of irreverent intransigence in an interesting question of resistance.
All human beings, without any kind of exception, are ignorant? Not only the night was repulsive, the most disgusting of these repulsive attitudes closes the night in an eternal alliance of mortally wounded vicissitudes. But what I think is the most disgusting aspect about human beings is how ignorant they are about their own ignorance.
Well, one thing is certain: after I erratically became stranded in the overkill of my nightmare disbelief, the night and its shadows definitely closed its curtains on me. And I never became the subject of any criticism again.
This point of my life could have been better explored, I think. But in the end, they never accused me of anything. I was just a shadow in the wall, a visitor from anywhere, an incongruent individual that simply vanished in an ordinary day, destined to go to a place nowhere to be found. This wasn’t me, after all.