Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2014
You ask me what I feel & think
(because the two are distinctly their own)
about the utter absurdity
& pointlessness of life

& out the windows cars go by
& up in space meteors fly
& sitting in this vinyl booth is me;
not alive long enough to know,
but who was seen many injustices--
yet knowing not a thing to do about them,
looks to those next to me,
who have only seen worse.

I do not know why the universe keeps expanding
or why my professor gives Monday exams
or why my poems are all the same
or why people in my life keep leaving
(or why I keep pushing them out?)--
messages marked "read" with no
response or
or reason or

Maybe the point is that
there is no point
Written by
Julia  New Jersey
(New Jersey)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems