random blobs of power expressed as that which we all disregard,
ordered states of nature on a scale that no one thinks about,
don't speak to me of anarchy of peace or calm revolt,
man, we're in a play of slow decay orchestrated by Boltzmann,
it's entropy, it's not a human issue,
entropy, it's a matter of course,
entropy, energy at all levels,
entropy, from it you can not divorce
and your pathetic moans of suffrage tend to lose all significance,
the natural outcomes of our ordered lives,
power, motivation; temporary fixtures for which we strive,
something in our synapses assures us we're ok
but in our disquilibrium we simply can not stay,
it's entropy . . .
a stolid proposition from a man unkempt as I,
my affectatious I can not rectify,
but we are out of equilibrium unnaturally,
a pang of consciousness of death
and then you will agree.
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