Petulance
The redundant quarrel
The mind betwixt in atrophy
Though only psychologically
It rapes the soul, the mind of idle insanity

Jaded, wax upon the distant periphery

Perceptive filter overrun and clogged
And emotionally, numbness
In indignant retaliation, drained, apathetic
Pleasure turns to irritation

Socially, drugged, to mask
the pain of aging without progress
As if dragging myself through sodden debris;
gore, filth, disgusting
I am unclean