Choral of putrefaction, anti-poem

Let's keep reciting the murmuring of penitences,
Mrhmmm, or Frffhhr: We were able to get up today.
Was it possible for us to breathe? If yes, then all is adequate.
We should love and should be loved, shouldn't we?
From our birth to the destiny, or something like that?
Sloped path from the mattress to downstairs, 
I opened the kitchen door, and it conveyed the cold air inside.
Lifted my right leg, moved slowly and stepped forward;
Am I yet there? Do I prefer standing there?
Where the hailed transformations of remorses are stored,
We make up our extended stories.
might we have tried to be a hero in that?
A betrayed person who keeps searching for their beloved?
Like in those primitive superhero movies that
make you feel this is the Early Middle Ages again.
Giving up or taking it seriously. When will it count?
It does not matter.
If you are a sociopath, you can be successful.
If you are a narcissistic psychopath, you can be a leader.
Most people will value your cruelty and lies, 
They will appreciate you,
they want to be similar to you.
Do you need gold, oil, data, or coal?
Would you like to have a pleasant holiday?
Travelling somewhere and consuming fake local foods?
Is it exciting? Does it sound good?
Do you love this dissipation where idiots build ski slopes in the desert,
or create a self-profile online,
or build concrete and glass islands?
Amazing? Eat, fuck and enjoy.
Participate in yoga courses and buy cheap flight tickets.
We need more revenue and profit.
Is this a perfect decadence? 
I know you do not care.
Yes, you need to care about where you go this weekend.
And also, you should buy a new car.
While the planet is rotten,
And millions have to live in camps.
You should obtain more. That's all right.
Enjoy it.

I do not want to wake up, 
I want to disappear
I wish I could be a real outsider
Who could be a hermit
But there is no more place for this
No escape, no exit, no hope.
Yes, it is pathetic, but all good.
This is just my anti-poem, so ignore it.