Doing the same things over again
somehow expecting different results.
He’s in his cups with a hole in one
leaving the outlook half empty
and bound to drive another round .
Disgusted by his reflection
yet nosing ever closer to the mirror
focusing on striated distractions
as self image becomes much less clear.
Convinced that what’s needed to fix
his sorely broken misconceptions
lies behind the next cut of Occam’s razor
which just keeps slicing ever deeper
into the next layer of rationalization.
This Houdini-esque escapism
of smoke and mirror oblivion
spoon fed by prior generations
in typical sleight of hand fashion
will stagnate in arbitration
until dire need is matched with action.