Accepting a life of impotent mediocrity
is now your path to desperation
a clinging to a passionless dullness
bereft of ardor or intensity
Life as reheated gruel without
flavour or spiritual sustenance
a life of do not offend with clothing or word
and the cold subjugation
of spying electric eyes
Existence mired in wistful regret
at might and could have been
of rare and mechanical motions
mimicking acts of love devoid
of desire and satisfaction
Circling the drain of second rate
and second best
life with one foot in the grave
of dull existence and ennui
Even my tumorous demise is more
appealing than that long decline
to regret and boredom and bitterness
Your own judge and jury
sentence handed down
in hollow lumps of an uninspired life
towards the lonely end that awaits