Nameless

I have seen the sons and daughters of mother earth defiled by the nature of their own minds.
Stood baring witness to warm souls being driven astray, made deranged in exchange for a chance to be named in the history books of our time.
Each of them daring to defy humanity and physics, sworn to refuting the axiom of their own demise, beguiled by the wiles of the moon and the cold and the warmth of the stars.

Yet not a soul has bothered to lay eyes upon me, perched, high as I was, atop the roofs and ramparts, gazing out at eternity, inaudibly wheezing as my lungs slowly suffused with the noxious smog and hot air extruded by my peers or my supposed betters, choking me, until I'd hacked up a corrupt phlegm, some amalgamation of bad memories and sad days and congealed existential mucus, wriggling up the back of my throat as if some sentient amoeba
threatening to speak to me in gurgling
tongues.

I spat it into my hand only to eat it again,
grimacing and disgusted, leaving me almost prone to face the reality of my inability to purge myself of those things that make me human.

Breathing heavily I've watched on, helplessly, as the greatest minds of my generation let themselves be destroyed by madness and circumstance, descending into nothing, beguiled again, by rites of passionless cause, caustic yet wholesome and vulgar, lighthearted and stupefied by the roaring tides of a life that they never chose to live.

For who would beg to be born into the world that I know?

One full of such blinding beauty, capable of rebooting a heart an infinite number of times, adjacent to such fetid ugliness that it wills the skin to crawl in reaction to the overabundance of war and blood and greed concentrated and homogenized into a substance
so thick that it can be drank like a viscous elixir or caked and slathered on as if unctuous animal fats
that drip all torpid and revolting.

I've traversed those strange nights
where lost boys wander and slough off flesh in clots and do not see me
or each other, though they pass close by,
howling without words or in a language of collapsing jargon acronyms and shorthands that once meant something and now have become the grunts of pigs!

All have forgotten and left themselves to grovel and plunder in the depths of society.
Seething and reckless they hold fast to the conquest, bare handed and lashed, left to bear scars in the conscience from the incessant seeping of lies and denial wreaking havoc upon the masses that stare on, abidingly lapping at the spoon that feeds from the toxic cauldron of
festering ruin and lavish chaos,
dreaming of salvation and reason,
dumbfounded and hopeless.

Dare I allow myself to be branded rebel as per the caveat for ascending the mantle of the nameless one? The nameless son whom refuses to acknowledge the detriment to a species lost,
with the masses leveled dispossessed and accosted, left nearly blind to their own perversion and subtle wanting...
Where all are consigned to oblivion and laughing at nothing, delighted and writhing in vapidity and blight, depraved and held captive by their blatant unwillingness to perceive the vile reality of their own oppression, besieged by torrents of fear and vice alike, daring to allow their names be omitted or stolen.