Poem: Stagnant

(Never finished it.. but I don't think I really can.. and it may be the point of the title as well as the content..)

I'm reluctant to push because I've forgot what progress is like,
getting overly complacent like my life's on strike,
I'm tired of not moving, but too exhausted to move, drained mentally,
no stimulation no getting a groove,
I remember around 7 pm, I'm off work like "don't rob, it's money",
but I have no job, I'm settling, I tried to start a session,
but by 1928 it was the great depression,
in awe of nothing sadly vested in mental deception,
the perception tested in debt to things I don't see,
as if the obvious is too easy, but even that is getting the better of me,
I try to fight through readers, writing love letters,
anything to spark momentum out of this venom
that makes me feel victim to this stagnant rhythm,
so I get bored, nothing's satisfactory, the fact
we hate on events we didn't procreate, complain there's nothin to do,
but don't participate,
I demonstrate a fate we've all succumb to,
a halted walkthrough..

..and that was all i got to

-Nem