#1013646 added July 14, 2021 at 5:03pm Restrictions: None
Ennui
It has weight: a backpack five pounds beyond carry comfort.
A texture too, akin to grainy risotto
or broken Béchamel, not inedible
but unpleasant all the same.
A thing to live with and live through,
the third hour of a trans-oceanic journey.
There might be an end;
there likely is an end – unless –
the gods are cruel
(and merciful).
It is two neighborhoods over from grin-and-bear-it,
a close enough subway ride
to suicide to make it worth the contemplation
but not the bother.
What is despair
if not dissatisfaction magnified many times over?
Happiness
a fleeting thing,
quite possibly a mirage.
Even contentment is but a sister-at-arms,
albeit more comfortably dressed.
So it must be fine.
To be
feeling anything
is still to be.
Is there a use in “getting better”
when worse is the mean?
Here
there is no disappointment;
nothing could please.
There
it sits,
old faithful friend,
content in its advantages,
unfazed
as you dabble with other emotions,
waiting.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 8:29am on Nov 22, 2024 via server WEBX1.