I despise the world and everything in it.
Not with the heat of rage,
nor with the need for revenge,
for nothing in particular,
could ever justify it.
The world need not burn.
Ashes still remember fire.
Ruins still confess a past.
I ask for neither collapse nor end,
only the absence of a beginning.
Let no hand erase it—
erasure admits there was something.
Let no star fade—
for fading remembers light.
I seek no grave for being, only its omission.
If nothing possesses meaning,
then meaning owes no debt to life.
What is never, never mourns.
What is absent leaves no echo.
What is not cannot be lost.
Call it neither hatred nor mercy.
For names belong to things that remain.
I desire no apocalypse, no war or victory.
Only this quiet impossibility:
that the world should simply never be.