wishing well

you feel as though you've done with
trying, with this unnatural and
unavoidable circumstance.
would you rather wake up to
dark skies every morning
to, the horrid rank of complacency?
it cannot be solved
but i'll die trying rather
than wait for that blow to the back of the head.
we've been drowning all this time.
don't tell me who i am,
there is no quick escape to
an earth of waltzing stars
and broken wishing wells.
where everyone brushes their teeth and
kisses goodnight,
and the distant hum of humanity
is like the subtle grinding of the teeth of the dead.