Dull

The same dull song whistles through the radio,
losing inspiration as quickly as the setting sun.
The places have changed, the people are fading away.
Inspiration isn't lurking at every corner anymore,
Concealing itself in places unknown.
A return seems faint,
the people drifting more day by day.
The new becoming the old,
the black turning to mold.
Maybe the spores will help develop.
Stimulate my brain, lure my senses.

Accustom

Surrounded by rigid mortality,
Loathing the greed.
Perceiving the ordinary,
Longing and hoping to supersede.
Instead, its all becoming customary.