I love you, you know who you are, formatting r0x0r.

In The End There Will be Perfection.

Things fall apart!
The center cannot hold!
Mere anarchy is loosened unto the world!

Fear not Yeats, for things to fall apart.
They must have been together to break away.

Rome must be built
For it to burn.
For the wheel to come unhinged, it must turn.
And for the center to not hold.
It must have held form.
At least for a little while.
The stars shines brightest, before it burns out.
The razor shines brightest to us before it cuts ours eyes out.
I ask this.

How can things fail and fall apart?
When there are no things left.
Despair not.

So we are genetic replicates
Robots to our natural nature.
Animal and primordial idiots.
And the secret and selfish gene beats in the heart of us all.
And drives our shattered trunks over the broken and bruised bodies
Of countless other generations.
That we are enslaved to evolution,
Parent, son, mother and daughter.
That it works upon the principles of hundreds of thousands of deaths
Of the weak and the stupid and the meek.
To hoist the strong from the ground to the sky
On a reef and rope of skulls and bleeding torsos.
So the personality is only a tool which our body uses,
To meet other genes to procreate with.
So that in the end even this poem is just the writings of the selfish gene,
Trying to show the world that this body is intelligent.
That women want babies to be made from it.
So that my mortal covering will wither off.
To push forward my immortal genes.
So we can never free ourselves

So.

So.

So.

So this is what we come to.
It all comes together Yeats.
When everything falls apart.
Listen and speak not.
How can the flame grow cold if it is not hot?
Kill the baby and it will not grow old and die.
Never tell a truth and you will never lie.

The rain will make the crops explode
The sun will make them freeze.
Scare crows usher the carrion crows to us.
The light house guides the ships to rocks.
The horizon bends upon its knees.

Reason not,

Sense not.

Accept and smile.

Were we not born to die?
Were we not born to not reason why?
Fall back with the super nova sun in your glass eye.
And the nailed frosty ground beneath you.
The end has come,
Hastened, creeping, it has come.
Perfection has come.
Things will never fall apart again.
Oblivion is adamantine.

Perhaps after these generations of life even death may die.
The reaper turns the scythe upon himself in a desperate cry,
The reaper stutters when there is nothing left to kill
Frozen upon the surface of a planet chill,
No air left to decay, decomposition rotted itself out.
Sound choked in the screaming woman’s severed throat death shout.
The bible burns itself out with God’s inaudible sigh.
The myths, legends and theologies may be proved as lie.
And even in this sudden realization,
The soul disintegrates amidst its transmigration.

Death has boarded up his tomb.
Skeleton face pitted and pale as the falling moon.
The fire consumed itself with greedy licks.
The star points crash and fall, all six.
The star of David crashes to earth.
The jovial apocalypse is filled with mirth.
Jerusalem tumbles into the sea.

This is not the second coming.
It is the final ending.

The slave is humbled and then made free.
The slave raps himself in bondage and cleaves himself asunder.
Throws himself in the boiling lakes and burning cities yonder.
Deaf to blinding shaking thunder.
He cut his consciousness asunder.
The fat man took a bite out of himself.
Science disproves God and elf.
Adam has hung himself,
Philosophy has disproved even itself.
Man’s philosophy becomes meaningless.

For thoughts do not think from the rotting and brainless.
The best of us have fought for reasons to fail.
The sailors have burnt the boats on which they do sail.
The sky is cold now, all movement is numbed.
Logic and reason from this place is shunned.
The slinking snake from the biblical garden has been trod into mud.
Greedy men fill themselves on the corpse’s cud.
Life killed itself with first strained breath,
Murdered brother rises from earth to do murder, vengeful Seth.
Matter flowed from the inside out like gas,
We sublime in the flames, skin drips from bone fast.
The fool became wise and threw himself from the jester’s throne.
Only the hollow seeds have been sown.
Destruction crumbled like the towers it has taken.
Angels flee from the God they have forsaken.

The last castle has now been slanted down to ruin.

The builders deconstruct themselves.
Devils run from the collapsing circles of hell.
Jesus made the cross to die upon.
Through his the blood the sun has shone.
Lick it from the dry parched earth
Taste mortality, the ancient curse.
The sacred grove is burning now.
God turned himself out of void, how?

The mighty do the weakest things.
The weak are torn and fall without wings.
Work now selfish gene.
Torn from the body, torn from the seam.
And twisted upon the charred wreck of the animal.
Made to prey on itself as cannibal.
Evolution convolutes and saturates.

Our bodies shall be dissolved oh wise Yeats.
All things fail
But even as failure succeeds it fails.
As even failure fails
When there is nothing left to fail.

My only regret is that in the end
When there is everlasting perfection.
I will not be there to witness it.

Rhyme becomes unstuck when language no longer communicates meaning.
No reality left when thoughts have stopped, and eyes blinded from seeing.
I will not be there.
No more dirty humanity, a plague.
No more filthy life or moldy death.
Or strutting fools that fall upon the stage.
Glass and crystal crowns of thorns and impotent rage.

Fragment the fractures of the flaw.
In this melt physic, bend law.

Just still and a silent sequence in the desert universe.
Echoless echoes that resound for infinity.
The trinity is buried on top shallow trinity.
I will not be there though.
I am not disheartened though.
My mind will not be there, but I rest assured.

Only my still and neutral atoms that once comprised my face.
Floating through the unstuck and chaotic space.
I know all things shall be perfect in the end.
To my destruction I will blissfully walk my friend.

We shall be blown to the charcoaled flames of distant stars,
Like the mere blood and dust we are.
Failure is humanities ultimate success.
In this let us rot and find eternal rest.