the metamorphosis of doubt

i never questioned inveterate decisions,
conferring to society’s maxims concerning “how it’s supposed to be”.
i followed ‘the’ path with sheep’s resistance
and, as a testament to irrational self-efficacy,
i, donning cap and gown, submitted to torturous commencement pageantry.
a little over a year ago i thought i’d change the world.
but instead it changed me.

with my, now, vestigial education and
a brain full of pretty, useless theories
(and a pocket full of debt)
i was shoved back into the life i loved leaving
and the routine (i still haven’t outgrown, yet):
“wash your fucking dishes,
don’t leave your shoes around the house,
and pick up the dog shit”
(…you let your dogs shit in your house?!)
it is the same old story the, now, lapidary rebukes
told in the same old ways…but to older ears this time.
ears that have listened to teachers
-for answers-
for fundations, for knowless and freedumb
but instead of finding illumination
only the usual impedimenta of life were gained:
a brain festooned with theory
and adorned with the barnacles of change
i soon realized that the theoretical lessons i had learned were far from sound
and in the ‘real world’ i could not sell real-estate on ideas that had no ground–
we are in a recession and that’s all that’s real in this state
and it’s the world i am indebted to, for my greatest post-grad lesson:
that condemning occupation is only a form of mental masturbation,
an unfortunate side-effect of the egocentric y-generation,
a voyeur obsessed with instant gratification
so thank you, world,
it seems i’ve been schooled by your economic education.