Should I be alarmed I rarely ever write?
My gift of emotional expression lays fallow.
Depth seems somehow out of sight;
Overrated is the life unendingly shallow.
Evan inhabits the place formerly of solitude,
Money assuages my insecurity.
Those dark feelings of old rarely intrude;
This soporific life lulls and beckons me.
The highs don’t seem quite as high;
My emotional diagram remains circular.
The lows don’t get as low as days gone by;
My existence feels a bit too linear.
Music is more a space-filler now than ecstasy;
There are a thousand things to do but get high;
When have I last kissed a woman deeply?
When was the last time I even really tried?
We know the Virginia Woolfs and the Hemingways
Of the world confronted the demons they faced;
They longed for the edge, and were loath to betray
The creative inspiration with which they were graced.
Balance is a worthy path to take;
Pursuing the highs and accepting the lows.
Time is too valuable a thing to waste,
For watching TV, nobody ever grows.
If you liked “Watching TV, Nobody Ever Grows”, you might enjoy the poem “Time I Wrote a New Book”
“Watching TV, Nobody Ever Grows” © Jason Merchey, 1999-2018
