I am stuck
In the doldrums
Of dole days
And lager nights.
Hit the city lights,
And sleep till 2pm.
Do I surmount to this?
Am I that...
Inept?
Incapable?
Or just that inebriated?
For all my pseudo intellectualism,
I am back in a room,
In my parents house,
Where I grew up.
Surrounded by childhood memories,
That I don't think I ever managed
To fully leave behind.
The thick fullness of them hindering my adulthood,
Stunting my growth.
So, do I surmount to this?
A litany of failed lives,
Failed loves
And failed longings.
All set to ash underfoot,
On this stained carpet.
And while the walls of my heart
Drip with the blood of
What I could have been,
What I should have been,
I relinquish myself to
Watching the world pass me by again.
And, glass of wine in hand,
I resign myself to my failures,
And tiptoe back
To despondency in the doldrums.
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