Is anyone there?

Silence.

Unadulterated mental

Violence.

Kicking, screaming,

Disappearing. . .

I don't exist.

Youth feverantly 

Obsessing

Over blood, death,

Feeling meaning;

All a whirl of

Nightmarish dreaming

Of Atlas, Fates,

And future wielding

Entities that can predict

Nothing.

Your incorruptible hesitance

Worships upon your irrelevance

Despite wanderlust plaguing

Your emotional raving

To an audience subsisting

Their own immaterial soliloquy.

While above in the aether

One shapeless, apathetic

Creator

          practices

                       Silence