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