and at the center of all matter, of all material, of all minimums

there is a void left empty,
despondent and dull

succumbed to perpetual boredom, refusing every parcel of hope fed its way

no triviality of life, pseudo-lover, amount of liquor, passionate anger, level of amusement, right of passage,
can suffice its numbing throb

a cavity at the heart of it all,
left vacant

only to remind us again and again of our
inadequacy