I am
continuing in my respective ways
content to become whatever this life intends
no longer sure that I am destined for great things
too many disappointments
resulting in a sense of defeat
and it’s hard to make plans
when it’s impossible to visualize a future
beyond the end of the day
when there is relief in sleep.

I am
entirely uninspired, but still young
and capable of more
but unwilling to endure pain and hurt
or prepared for intense effort
and therefore unable to invite
new experiences involving physical attempts
or discussions of philosophy
that require comprehensive thought
and any motivation.

I am
dulled in all feelings
never deeply sad, only dismal;
hardly troubled by life’s trials
as I am now familiar with failure
and expect changes as they will come
undoubtedly when I am least ready.
My capacity for love is compromised by
a strong disdain for human nature
and complete lack of interest in the games we must play.

I am
vaguely imagining my end
as the days pass and I have contributed nothing
meaning and reason are still questions
that I have given up on trying to answer
because the mystery is no longer intriguing
and I suppose that nothing really is.
A glimmer of hope remains for a renewal of spirit
though it is distant now as the pacific islands 
or finding the path to righteousness.