Another late, late night
I stay awake and watch TV
Trying to fill the empty me
Another mediocre being
Background white noise fuzz
And lost atop the heap
I never ride the carousel the Ferris wheel
Consigned to watch the lights
And laughter from the dark
I am the littered byways
The grey mundane
I am the flotsam washed away
The hurt you tell the pillow
Before you sleep
I am the sob and secret that you keep
Bon Ivor sings, Holocene
I concur and realise
I am not magnificent again
I feel the narrator, teetering on the edge of it, and the song he hears doesn’t quite pull him back, or perhaps it will. I think the ”ferris wheel’ stanza very poignant, and that ‘I am the sob and secret you keep’.