I was drowning in the shallows of empty conversation
I leaned on my brother Distance and my sister Cynicism
The club's music pounded and the men postured
The club's music pounded and the women preened
The poet does not fit 
In his place on the shelf
said Distance
The poet does not slide
Smoothly into the glove Of expectations
said Cynicism
He is chronicling life to pacify
the war in his mind
Said Distance
The poet cannot escape her own thoughts
She did not come to demonstrate social dominance
So popular with schematic souls
Said Cynicism
The poet is homeless a life apart
No longer a mirror of the culture
That gave him birth
Spoke Distance
She is seeking arguments with happiness
Who tries to fool her
Relieved when losing
The poet's enemy is the Zeitgeist
Who will render him irrelevant
Oh the Zeitgeist, said Cynicism
That shiny, hollow creature
Blended from the horrible charms of cultural currents 
Who would dance with him is born a widow
They drag me coughing from the club
And we chase after my breath
Who has left me
The poet must express himself or go mad
Distance shouts
These color blown sounds are aching for fullness
in constraint
Screams Cynicism
Raise high the glittering starlight and advance
One to be recolonized
Laughs Distance
Bring down one doer among the littering classes
Sneers Cynicism
The poet is always going mad said Distance
The poet loves her madness said Cynicism
She would rather chase a million stars
Enslaved by solitude
Than spend his remaining days
With the shallow.
We are the same

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