that's mrs. mediocrity to you

and now they say it’s not that bad, the sky isn’t
falling and here we are, bits of blue in our hair,
trapped in the rat-maze tracks we’ve worn in the
carpet, no longer even trying to get out.

and now they say sorry, so sorry, sorry, not sorry
and no one knows who cares, doesn’t care,
can’t care, wouldn’t care, cares too much,
has gone mad with the caring, can’t find
a damn thing to care about.

and now the sky is blue but it’s always raining and
the basement’s flooding, water seeping in around
the edges, no one sees if we close the door, ignore
the smell, carry on with dinner and distraction and
pretend people aren’t dying in a dark spreading puddle
of sour statistic.

and now. the question that only ever has one
answer, the damned unprepared living of it all,
smiling when the sun hits your face for one brief
silent moment, aching for life, alive love
laughter landing, burning through the
empty stare of days.

and now.

…