Minerva

This absurd anarchy prevails.

When Idle, we collide.

Destitute and empty

And we come here to devour.

To discern

This excruciating

Karma.

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

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: