There’s No Freedom Like Feeling Lost

I see myself at this age

Both inert and enraged

Taking certain delight

Feeling safe and forthright

When all around there is noise

And a world that won’t stop fucking changing

And I raise your mistakes

With each one that I make

Preening proudly at length

About self-confidence

But how I yearn to be new

To be spared from work I so badly don’t want to do

There’s no freedom like feeling lost…

Is it rare to assume

Such a sepulchral gloom?

Though my posturing hurts

I project my comfort

Let me die in the spring

To put a downer on all that new life

From the plinth of my plight

In the race to be right

I demand to be heard

To have my best years returned

All my beauty will burn

And the machines will learn to do my job!

There’s no freedom like feeling lost…

So, go, get lost.

(I could change if I choose, I just do not want to.)