that in these times,
everyone finds ennui more pleasurable
than change?
Why does everyone prefer the turd
of the jejune
to the ambrosia
of the absurd?
I know why.
Becoz its
so damn comfortable
to never even try.
To never even seek to know
the jolt of life
as the disenchantments of bleak dreams
more familiar grow.
And the indifferent world spins at leisure,
while the blinded generations grope in the dark,
clawing at every distant
unknown pleasure.
