The Scream of [Hyper]Consciousness

I'm an absurd man, mental drifter,

metamorphosed into a conscious man,

Loner and loser,

Thanks to the delusional Kafkaesque,

Sartre's nausea and Kierkegaard's angst.

In this cruel world of Crimes and disPunishment,

Where books like The Brothers Karamazov

Are read only by "Idiots"

The illusion,

That the books can

Throw you

In some parallel Universe ,

Where Nash Equilibrium is the only law,

Ramanujan's equations are the solutions

For beyond good and evil

And

The purpose of life is to overcome man

Through

The will of power

And

Become Nietzsche's Ubermensch,

Hoping that

This acid meaningless existence

Can find

Its illusional essence in that Universe,

Because here is pointless.

The acceptance of this illusion,

Will transform you into an optimistic loser

Or in modern terms:

A believer.

Refuting it,

Will make you a nihilist.

The transcendence of it,

Will multiplicate you with zero

And

Throw you into the abyss.

And the abyss will smile at you,

Like a fairy tale

Of the Boogeyman for a 7-year-old child.

Which evil is less evil?

Or should we say:

What "goodness" is more illusionary, better?

To see what we want to see,

Without seeing what really is there ?

And you’re smiling,

Like a happy man

Entering into a mental asylum,

Hoping for better times,

Even though,

You know that this is an eternal checkmate.

Being conscious

Is an amplitude of emptiness and fullness,

But being hyperconscious

Is a synonym of eternal despair

And

In rare cases,

Of joy, pointless 5 minutes of joy.