A Slavoj Zizek [Poem]

There is nothing, basically.
I mean it quite literally.
But then how do things emerge?

Here I feel a kind of spontaneous
Affinity with quantum physics,
Where, you know, the idea there is;
That universe is a void, but kind of
A positively charged void.

And then particular things appear when
The balance of the void is disturbed.
And I like this idea spontaneously very much,
That the fact is that it’s not just nothing.
Things are out there.

It means something went terribly wrong.
What we call creation is kind of a cosmic
Imbalance; cosmic catastrophe.
That things exist by mistake.

And I’m even ready to go the end,
And to claim that, the only way to
Counteract it is to assume the mistake
And go to the end. And we have a name
For this, it’s called love.

Isn’t love this kind of cosmic imbalance?
I was always disgusted with this notion that
'I love the world; universal love'.

I don’t like the world. I’m basically somewhere
In between ’I hate the world’ and ’I’m indifferent towards it’.
But the whole of reality it’s just it, it’s stupid.
It’s out there, I don’t care.

Love for me is an extremely violent act.
Love is not: I love you all,
Love means: I pick out something, and
It’s again this structure of imbalance.

Even if this something is just a small detail,
A fragile individual person,
'I say I love you more than anything else'.
In this quite formal sense, love is evil.




Reading Žižek – Where to Start?