This Is Not An Exit

In the end no one is safe
Nothing is redeemed
And yet I am blameless
As I come face to face with the truth.
A truth.

Maybe this schism is just a symptom
Of late capitalism
A saviours dereism
Of worlds that wouldn't listen
To their own collapse.

Even if this story
Is overwrought and gory
It's not a fable, it's not an allegory
No cautionary tale, no momento mori
For a vague perhaps.

Maybe you've been slaughtered
Maybe you've been killed
Either way means nothing
I simply don't exist
Look at what's been done here
Judge it how you wish
I am all alone here
I am a solipsis
This is what we come to
What we have become
I am not a person
Known to anyone
All the doors are tried and tested
Know that this is not an exit.

Am I just a version of the end of days?
Am I just an effect of a modern phase?
Am I just the end point of the grand parade?
Should we be afraid?

Maybe you've been slaughtered
Maybe you've been killed (kissed)
Either way means nothing
I simply don't exist
Look at what's been done here
Judge it how you wish
I am all alone here
I am a solipsis
This is what we've come to
What we have become
I am not a person known to anyone
All the doors are tried and tested
Know that this is not an exit
None of this exists for me
This is all a fantasy
There is no future here
There is no history
None of this is real
It's not reality
None of this exists for me
There is no consistency
There's only entropy
And even though I've tried and tested
(I) Know that this is not an exit
Now.

I am 27 years old living in New York City at the end of the century. This is what being Patrick Bateman means to me.