burtlo

Recalling Mediocrity

I lay awake with the pale ache of mediocrity
Late night, lucid dreams
sold to me from my blaring, monolithic screen.
I am informed of my inadequacies,
over sold on the possibilities,
and I have never been in touch with reality.
I am a perpetual adolescent.
Arrested before I could develop.

If I act now they'll throw in humility
with all my guaranteed prosperity.
The three easy payments, add very little cement
to my unsurmountable prison called debt.
The rush from placing the order
all but gone by five and a quarter
Just as the dawn begins slowly rising
my eyelids heavy, which is unsurprising
I lay like the dead
in the middle of my king size bed.
Recalling mediocrity.

* * *

The idea was there in the original poem. A grueling affair proceeded in producing the above material and I'm only moderately pleased with it. To talk passionately about lacking [passion] usually defaults to rhyming and relying on commercial sloganry and cute uses of expressions of things like "arrested development."

I left out two lines that I loved from the five or so pages of rewrites that will likely be locked away in some vault until I do this again in 2012.

My self expression's 2000 flushes all washed up.

So tired from painting such a bland life. So tired of living in off-white