So often told what to dream, and slowly
it sinks, breaking surface tension and sliding
behind my waking rationality:
and I reach
for what I do not want;
and I yearn
for what I do not need;
and I fall in step and walk in time,
reluctantly, still giving in.
I was not destined to live forever;
I was never a god, except in my own mind.
But my beat was my own, once upon a daydream;
no white-picket-fence-three-dogs-two-kids-smiling-wife-happy-man.
But repetition wears down resistance,
packaged desires supplanting the truth,
and I can't stop listening, though I plug my ears,
can't stop seeing, though I close my eyes:
finally clearly defined,
the American Dream...
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