I feel a budding urgency
To fight back as I see the curmudgeon emerge in me
Diminishing common courtesy and interpersonal skills
Not quite an emergency yet
But I can see it's not brain surgery
To walk around feeling like the whole world's serpentine
Chip on the shoulder might fit like a glove
It's a piece of cake to hate, it takes work to love
And therein lies the rub
That internalized lifestyle of living in a rush
Knee jerk jerks shirk the hard work and get worse
At judging worth, now they claim that everything is dirt
From some digital porch
I can yell at a cloud, raise a torch and pitchfork
Poor sport with a keyboard, connection, and boredom
Who moves so fast he blows past the post mortem
I can feel myself slipping
Under the undertow of rank individualism
Swimming in cynicism
I can still see the shore. Giving in is not a given