Oh, pray, what is the middle road between
Fatal despair and dumb optimism?
Some days the bright and shiny post is bull.
Next day, I need it to keep me alive .
The world was once on our side and friendly.
Now, it tries to trip us and rob us blind.
Weary from self-defense, I see no hope.
And yet, my life is comfortably set.
No matter age or illness, I am here.
Alone, I have it almost figured out.
Art and wisdom have seen me through till now.
And yet, I hate that nothing will improve.
Our teenage dreams are unattainable.
We must let them go and live life now.
I’m sick of cleaning up and speaking nice.
Oh, give me freedom with none of the bones.
I’m bored with canes and shots and thinking twice.
I failed all tests of womanhood, I know.
It’s late too late to score the things I need.
Noise and music. Dancing. My life’s too slow.
We made sure that the rebels failed and died.
And now, we cower, terrified of want.
Enslaved by masters who screwed up and lied.
I hate these black on white lame epistles.
I want more color and shape and meaning.
I want to be atomic. I’m just thistles.
A damned mosquito swept out of the path.
I know that I can do better than natter.
Study, damn it and do the fucking math.
Giving up all means nothing will improve.
All we have is what we are and no more.
It’s time to find my new, old lady groove.