Member-only story
Mental Slur
A Poem
the dopamine hit you’re waiting for
doesn’t arrive on time
as you stand,
crestfallen,
with no whims
other than your own
to follow
and you’re tumbling down a rabbit hole
of fixed expectations riddled with pride —
till all you can do is fix your eye
on the mismatched nomen
of some bygone
era
and you tell yourself lies daily
just to cope, just to be seen —
but it’s all so meaningless
as the jokes pile up
in thoughtless motions,
scattered
how did you think you’d feel
when you realized your life
was a very real unknown,
a quantity fixed in space,
a hopeless never-ending
where you bit off more
than you could chew?
tell me, O self,
what you thought
you’d accomplish
as some keyboard warrior
hidden behind a screen,
lost in some other world
from which there was no…
