A Postmodern Buzz

You pursued your self, and then found it.
You gave yourself another name, and then abhorred it.
You treasured the golden chalice of eternal wisdom, and then discovered it tasted bland.
You roasted a delicious turkey and gorged on its flesh - and became promptly sick.
You banged your head against the wall...
all day...
hoping that it would open into a meadow of heavenly bliss,
but found in the end it was actually, quite certainly, indefatigably and undoubtedly,
made of solid cement.
And if the blood flows down over your crushed forehead,
And if the electronic music's beat is now rattling your ears,
And if all of your fairy identity is growing stale --
Please remember, your life will reach its apex on the afternoon of the 31st,
and God was wondering if you could cc Him on the email.