Apathy

A free verse poem by Henry Monk

Henry Monk, Co-President

There exists an emotional void,
the Marianas Trench of feeling,
an abyss known simply as Apathy,
a cavity wherein every joyous laugh
and every sorrowful cry
and every enraged scream
fades into an empty susurrus.

There exists a mental overencumberance,
the Sahara Desert of motivation,
an oppressive languor known simply as Apathy,
a pressure cooker that boils a man down to a lethargy
so that he can melt into the couch
and close his eyes from everything he loves.

There exists an absolute inner tedium,
the El Dorado of torpor and boredom,
a wet fireplace known simply as Apathy,
a sputtering and burnt out engine that makes each and every dialogue feel
like
a
slow
drawl
dragging
on
endlessly
and every simple action a pointless and unconquerable quest.

If ever there has existed a state of mind to actively combat,
an emotional Alcatraz to escape from,
it is known simply as Apathy;
bliss and misery are not opposites,
Apathy is the antonym of both.