I am fucking off

 I am fucking off to the peripheral supermarket,
always the same one, 

and the Four Horsemen
will catch us twerking in oblivion.

 The well's well dry, 
a life with no fight or ideals worthy of the name,
will we be able to crawl back to harsh crag and castle
and scrape an austere living that make us strong again?

 We will realize the apparatus of State, 
an insatiable leech gorged on blood and wealth
did abandon us much before the last hours

were announced by the horizon.

The last hours we spend alone in the dark, starving,
parched with thirst,
burning our books and art to stay warm 

one more night.

 I fuck off to the supermarket while it is still there,
unransacked and plentiful,
thankful that it is still so and there is running water
and internet for an eternal deluge 

of fucking stupid videos.