I must admit that I love the mundane.

I say I ‘admit’ it because we’re supposed to say that we like

The exciting and sexy, the expensive and hot.

We’re here on this planet for the Instagram pics,

Celebrity power and the sexiest chicks.

But I like to clean the dust from the edge

Of the supermarket shelves.

I quite enjoy putting my hand in a puddle

And pressing my fingers into the mud.

I like to walk through old stately homes

And daringly touch the ancient exhibits

Without anyone noticing what I have done.

It’s these really small things that remind me I’m alive,

A shot of adrenaline or a squeeze of the gut.

The number of likes on my Facebook account

Or the promotions I get at the job that I hate.

They don’t do a thing for my soul,

They just bury me deeper,

And deeper,

And deeper,

Until I’m clawing at earth as it’s piled up on top

Of the casket that holds the promise of life

But a life that was wasted on trying to get

The shot that would get a few thousand likes.