Alienation always surpasses purity of vision

I prefer weeds,
Breaking through the asphalt.
Roots breaking the foundation.
The wild, uncomfortable truth of decay and rot.
I prefer mold on the walls, honest in its destructive aesthetics.
The process of decay itself is important, the last form of sincerity.
When all shells are discarded, all masks.
Only the chemistry of decay remains, pure, without impurities.
I hate everything around me,
Areas of absolute order,
Where every particle occupies a predetermined place
In the scheme of decay.
They try to treat it
As if it were a disease,
And not the last stage of clarity. 
They offer pills
That change the chemical composition of lies. 
I see the world
Through the prism of absolute hatred.
They offer me therapy,
Taking my rejection 
For a malfunction.
Cure the fundamental flaw: 
The ability to create forms doomed to suffering.
To say "no"
To everything that demands worship. 
All I preach is extinction.
Let extinction be the only creation,
The last work of art in the world, deserving only oblivion.
Absolute clarity as a pathology.
Alienation always surpasses purity of vision.