1. |
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Desperately forcing religion and philosophy and scholarship and science into an explanation for what life is, does not make it any better. It’s a desperate attempt to understand what is hidden in a riddle so vast and empty, there’s nothing to find. It’s pointless.
Silent, the voices of questioning.
Silent, the murmur of voices.
There is no time in existence. No greater determination. There is only the ongoing process of the gentle indifference of the world.
I have to open myself up to the gentle indifference of the world. To not lose hope. To not lose purpose. To keep on. To move on.
But in facing death it all becomes senseless. Life is absurd. The relation of what one puts into it and the outcome is ridiculous. How are we so entangled in a life and bound to it, when it does not treat us anything good for? Why the struggle, the suffering, the pain, when it all boils down for nothing?
Silent.
The voices of questioning.
Silent.
The murmur of voices.
If your life would have end today, it wouldn’t change the world in any way.
Shallow hopes and dreams all so numb.
And be gone.
Silent whispers in the wind.
The sound of what we have become.
Gasping for air as I suffocate.
On all of this.
Take my hand.
Pull me out of this mold.
The gentle indifference of the world.
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2. |
Porcelain Life
11:37
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When the solitude feels like a warm blanket over the body so tired from the purpose one shall give to an absurd existence, the fear of death visits like an old friend. It feels sickening to nourish him again.
A life of porcelain.
Inscribing meaning and sense into a sculpture made out of skin, made out of glass, made out of grains of sand, made out of stigmatized dreams; indoctrinated the art of perverted ontology, made out make one sick and frightened. Thousands of days to build up on dreams of those who have already vanished. This legacy scars ones skin and shatters all the beauty within. What you made was beautiful, but like everything it will be dead in the end.
And with closed eyes - distanced from reality and from everything that weighs so heavy and makes the walls closing in - the knowledge and undeniable fact, that we all are going to die, feels like the only thing that is for certain.
The mind is infested, yet also chilled by the necessity of how life is going to be.
It’s going to be filth and scum and pain and fears and hopes and dreams and love and loss and senseless fight to survive all of this.
And when the worms feed on our flesh there will be nothing left.
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3. |
Contemplation
08:55
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The duress of contemplation
about transfixed determination
restricts the freedom of creation
and bounds to obsessive thoughts.
There shall be freedom in everything we are,
but it just feels like endless repetition.
Day in day out this stupid machinery.
Year in year out trapped in this machinery.
I hope to die to flee this tedium.
But I’m stuck to this existence.
I cannot give it away so recklessly.
For it shall feel enormously.
The endless nothingness of death.
The numb perfection of everything that is.
The empty eternity frightens so much.
But it’s the only choice we have.
A senseless suffering surrounds us.
Suck it in with every breath.
Fuck it dead with erratic stress.
Transcend it into every fucking cell.
We are made out of death
we become death
and the worms will feed
and they die
and they become death
and the rats will feed
and they die
and they become death
and the gras will grow
and it will die
and it will become death.
An unavoidable circumstance of life
is the awareness that you will die.
And you will be dead for most of your life.
For death is life and life is death.
And you will be the dirt
from which once you were born.
And you will become the dirt
from which life rises.
For everything is ash.
The duress of contemplation
about transfixed determination
restricts the freedom of creation
and bounds to obsessive thoughts.
There shall be freedom in everything we are,
but it just feels like endless repetition.
Day in day out this stupid machinery.
Year in year out trapped in this machinery.
And in the end
it is all ash
and in the end
it is all flesh.
I am nothing
You are nothing
we are nothing
they are all nothing.
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4. |
Negligible
10:13
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So much to do, so much to feel in a single existence. And yet we are negligible. The vast endlessness of the universe. We are but a minor fracture of everything that is. Born from the dust of dead stars and yet arrogant enough to feel superior about it. We are not superior, we are nothing. We exist for nothing and we die for nothing. And everything in existence is closing in and is putting pressure on our skins. Like the walls are closing in.
It’s all pointless. It means nothing.
Death makes us all equally worthless.
Floating on a sea of endless things melting into a melange of everything and nothing.
All the colors and shapes and smells and feelings, all these sensations of perception and cognition and thoughts molds into lava and burns its cold but never freezing heartlessness of solitary eternity.
Memories will disappear like a feather in the wind.
I’d rather kill myself than endure the certainty of being dead after a life I struggled to fill with sense.
I’d rather kill myself to flee from the fear of death.
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5. |
The Fear Of Death
05:40
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In the system of reality
confused to find it’s core
faced by anonymous tribulations
on the brink of life’s shore.
Faceless burning agony
with a mind an old slave.
Restless for the search for answers
but nowhere to be found.
Reproduction
or search for wisdom,
control it all
or increase satisfaction?
In a time for all perfection
for a crisis of meaning
one is obligated
to ask for one’s life sense.
Faceless burning agony
with a mind an old slave.
Restless for the search for answers
but nowhere to be found.
Reproduction
or search for wisdom,
control it all
or increase satisfaction?
Desperate to reality
but a mind an old slave.
Is individualism
the cancer of the self?
The incarnation
of a heartless rude void.
Passion and fear must all surrender
to engage an inner center.
Desperate to reality
but a mind an old slave.
Is individualism
the cancer of the self?
The incarnation
of a heartless rude void.
Passion and fear must all surrender
to engage an inner center.
In the system of reality
confused to find it’s core
faced by anonymous tribulations
on the brink of life’s shore.
Faceless burning agony
with a mind an old slave.
Restless for the search for answers
but nowhere to be found.
To shroud it all in aimless light
and find oneself in darkest night
fill the heart with hopeful wrath
to lead us through the fear of death.
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Grimheart Germany
Existentialist anarcho post black metal solo project from Germany.
Grimheart started
by experimenting with some Black Metal sounds and arrangements in 2017 with the first release "Shrouded Between Light And Darkness."
The next release "The Fear Of Death" sharpened the style and brought the production to the next level.
The latest release "Ripples" features a new orchestral approach.
... more
Grimheart recommends:
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SAT254: Order Of The Ebon Hand - VII: The Chariot (2019)
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