Twas the hollow yet consuming vacuum that was his
young mind at the brink of adulthood.
For truly nothing—nothing but games—he stood
an awfully zealous religious practitioner of
latitudinarianism.
Such a lifestyle frequently drove him to spasm
as hundreds of different questions & answers surrounded him
and he suspended in the air.
What was he to care?
For he was the world and the screen.
A statistical mean
was this boring man whose only peculiar feature was
a once broken spleen.
He wasn't too keen on change, movement or ratification
He'd prefer to stay still, a child, in the moment
Yet who was he against the nation?
He was just a pebble in the water...
Subordinately, silently, knowingly, accepting
His own gradual disintegration
As he floated in transcendent suspension
Never making a sound, nobody noticed; nobody paid attention
And then he was gone—away
