Ennui

The sun dogs have all run home,
but darkness procrastinates.
Earth puzzles over purple clouds floating
above houses inhabited
by lying people collared in gold and diamonds.
What have we come to?
Overstimulated, we languish,
characterized by feckless intentions.
We deify doggerel,
and despise common sense.
The sound bite rules.
Civility is unknown.
Manners are a sign of weakness.
Surly darkness falls and
we watch the dying spasm of day.
Circumscribed by pitch
we are forced to confront our addictions.
Twelve steps demand we look
to our hearts, our core
and pick our higher power.