This absurd anarchy prevails.

When Idle, we collide.

Destitute and empty

And we come here to devour.

To discern

This excruciating


It is what it is, isn’t it?

Just a maelstrom of

Programmed obsolescence.

We are utterly alone.

We are wretched.

I still write poetry because shit like Stinkfist exists, and I want to strike that nerve in someone. Someday.

Written for Nate’s poetry class.

One thought on “Minerva

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Start a Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: