This poem is for the solitude-loving introverts stuck at extrovert-saturated social gatherings who would much rather be immersing themselves in film, literature, music and art… The things in the universe that really matter.
Find more about the Jungian/Myers-Briggs personality type indicator here, I’m an INFP by the way. I’m certified obessed with the MBTI and Jungian psychology which in part (at least a tiny slither) inspired this poem.
Destroying Social Convention
Destroying, social convention.
Monopolising the conversation with terrible gags
(Makes me gag)
Your anecdotes, “amusing” notes are the antithesis of rhapsodic
And no, I’m not “pretending” to a be an elite,
(Vacuous as you, merely keep my mouth shut)
You lower the IQ of everyone
In the entire street.
Quiet (and quietly)
I snore, simply a bore.
Cretins of every nation
Clamped! Engaged! In the vice of
Superficial small talk
(Makes me balk)
Although, who am I to berate?
Though you remain to grate and infuriate
I speak akin to a misanthrope
(Hand me the rope)
You pause to something witty but nothing comes out, not even silence.
The abyss under chat, why am I here again?
Two fingers to the pseudo-glitterati and this party
A hermetic existence
(I’ll keep my distance)