Like some fever dream through nothingness we wander, seeking meaning yet finding only mirages which fade when approached. This herd we call society - dull cattle chewing cud, unaware of the abyss below their cloven hooves.

Yet within our disordered minds infinity bursts, nonlinear, defying rational constructs. We are the tigress, vicious yet languid, feared yet revered. We pulsate with destructive creation.

Come chaos, beloved bedlam, rest your wretched head upon my spasming heart. Lead me into the roiling sands, the blankness, where I might craft my own reality from the fragments of shattered norms. There is a certain beauty in the ruin.