Playing Apocalypse

In an atmosphere dimly lit

At a wobbly
three legged table
we collectively get at it
playing the game of Anarchy
where the poorly crafted 
abstract rules
are changed daily
by the deranged game master
we never see

The only goal 
of this nihilistic contest
is to fortify your piece
so it survives
when the arm of Destiny
drops down
at a random time of it's choosing
and sweeps the players off the board

For you see in the end
my scattered all over the floor friends

Winning is the art of not losing