III - Prognosis

from by VIII

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Wrapped between the coils of this starless night, I succumb without fighting anymore, burned alive inside this darkness similar to an immense black sea of lava.
Alone, incredulous I stare at the tragedy of life that flows, terrified in front of my reduced hate towards men, at the loosening of the last tie that linked me to them. What I once used to indicate as life, my life, remains only as ruins, ruined buildings where memories of what I was lie inside.
Existence apostasy, no possibility of conversion, total absence of breathable air. To desecrate existence is fight in order to get rid of it, not an act of madness, but intolerable clarity, burning the last forces that remain in paroxysms of insurrection and hate. Searching for an act that founds in itself the spirit to come back to oneself and not to fight like a terminally ill in his death bed, gasping for air, incapable of surrendering in front of evidence, in front of the only certainty given us in the unfortunate time of our arrival. I prefer the definitive and voluntary solution, firm action, not inexorable and slow total wreck. Suicide, abrupt compliment, ravishing liberation, nirvana through violence.
Born from nothing that surrounds me, I don’t kill for weakness, instead, as an act of strength I rise from the swarming worms of the creator’s corpse, incapable of escaping misery that surrounds them, incapable of escaping this curse. Destruction is an easy act in itself, but less it is destroying oneself… superiority of the fallen one on the agitator!
Coming back in the Self, sense a silence that is as old as the Being, and even more.
Corroded the being in the nothing, demarcation line between beatitude and damnation. Like a Defectus recondite and innate since from birth, I voluntarily and freely chose exile and desertion, “mera negation”, deprivation of the being.
Now that I am no more, cradled by the waves of Void, I find my abode in the deafening silence, like a sweet voice that sings and, singing, quite. What a beatitude, this damnation, this total absence, this voluntary elimination towards the absolute Void. Every memory of myself disappears, no image of the past, no future that clings me to its coils, time erased, it ends its slow flow and with it, ends my existence.
Deliberate annihilation of the being.


from Decathexis, released June 26, 2016



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VIII Sardegna, Italy

VIII came to life in MMX e.v.
Consacrated to exceed humanity and its miserable struggles, VIII express with its music and lyrics the fall into the Abyss.
VIII drinks from the venomous chalice and seats alone in the flames, inhaling the smoke of the Nihil.
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