Poem-A-Day: Day 124

Complacent to Failure

Tenuous.

The easiest descriptor
for the single greatest definition of failure
since the first game show
gloriously debuted human fault
like original sin, cast to the waves
that occupy space in time.

No sign, or cosign needed for this claim,
because there is nothing left
of broken, hollowed out shells,
lost like scribbled out notes
to less than avid eyes
watching blown out tires spin reluctantly.

Erector sets have modeled stronger will,
and surely stronger spines
with gravel scraping mad bee sounds,
stinging the back in slow whips
alluding to slavery,
but eluding to nothing more than collapsing.

Tenuous,
time reluctantly collapsing.

Around, there are flowers to be seen
stabbing wistfully at blue skies moaning
blank songs down
on false clay earth,
robbing the holy notions
of the sunlight that callow light brings.

Slow descending down,
spiraling like the worst shit taken
on any given day,
in any given town,
gone down, to the watery heavens
that make life seem almost viable.

Laughable happens, to be more
for something else than it usually is,
but there really isn’t anything
that it actually does,
outside of the cold, jarring copacetic moments
that make life seem like complacency.

Tenuous,
time reluctantly collapsing,
brings viable complacency.