It’s a malaise that’s fermented,
alive and well
and quite actually eager
to be unleashed.
I am self-indulgent and I am bold,
blatant, rash, and naive,
always ready to take on a challenge
until it jeoprodizes me
and my perfect state of bliss
earned through my ashtanga flow
and bitter black coffee.
This is what the next generation has
to offer you. This is the way the world’s headed.
We can all cry together because we’re reeling
toward a tumult of feelings
and people who think too much,
who stare blankly at spaces,
and who live for an intoxicating present
that is beautiful and dangerous.
We will wallow in self-pity
and self-constricting guilt,
loving every minute of ourselves.
Lend us a brittle hand.
We’re not as cool as we seem.