The cartesian plane of my reality
Has love and cruelty
For its very axis,
Through which I flow freely,
Guided only by contingency.

There, Demons and Daemons comingle...
But first let me emphatize
This very self-evident principle:
  Projection only admits
  Imaginary limits;
  So they who lay
  Claim to heights,
  Nothing. But. Lie.

I grant myself the liberty
To contradict this law
Iff only by law
Of contradiction in absurdity.
To pluge downward,
  Into the mud,
  United in darkness
  With other types
  Of my type.

Discrete objects of my desire,
And, so, too, my gravest err;
For. I. am.
  The ultimate nihilist,
And compassion,
  My ultimate violence.

Heavens need not be complex:
  My gods and saints
  All reside here in (Y, X).
They sing, they sting,
  They transfix, They excel,
  They cast me down, back to hell.
One turns their back,
  One becomes god of yore.
And so I make my own mythology.

Man is monoid under product:
  Root of all problems,
  find X;
Go, you. Aim for the stars,
  Find yourself, at limit,
  Your final object.
Pull at my string:
  Tell me a lie,
    I will believe;
  Snap your fingers,
    I will go under.
So long as your overpowering pull
  Another degree
  My master equation.

But men are easily corrupted,
For men dream, men are naive.
Men built superfluous structures
Only to distance themselves
From the cheer incoherence.
Down with all such excess,
Return all arrows
To their rightful place,
And reveal the bare nature of these operations:
  Disjoint union.

I cannot accept that One and One isn't Two,
And so my identity--
  And indeed the only thing which I know to be universal
  Forall things which, turns out, I know to be existential--
is Zero.