Self Hate: On Pragmatic Thoughts
A substance called thought
A sensation itself, without prior existence
Like a smell sensed by an old nose
Is reminiscent but only through the sensation of thought
The smell has never been until it was
Like Heraclitus’ river
And thus the self is a river inside a thought
The old thought collecting clogging scum
Dogma that call each new experience
A thread of the past
That never existed
The clogged-scum self taints the purity of zen-perience
And lends belief to a thought that the thought itself
Is preordained necessarily loyal to an idealization of the future
And to avoid your role in this future, to delineate
Means to hate the self
That doesn’t exist
Apart from the existential thought of being