I sat feeling greasy and totally uninspired.
Another unproductive day was about to pass
And yet I still couldn’t bring myself to do anything.
Poking at my spots in the mirror
Seemed to be the only desirable form of entertainment.
Piles of papers with nothing on them
Sat in front of me, as if they were waiting for a bus;
But one wasn’t coming.
My head was as empty as the highway to Cicero
And it is still taking me forever to get there.
I squeezed the last drop of wine from yesterdays bottle
And wondered how many days I would sit like this: -
Lifeless, thoughtless, empty-headed.
I knew there were things to be done (what things?)
Part of me desperately wanted to achieve something,
Anything, but the rest of me
Surrendered in front of the radio
Like an old cat wandering about
Inside a bed sit on a sunny day.
I stayed in and watched the paper
Weigh my desk down; I watched the radio
Making incomprehensible sounds; I watched myself
Flat on the floor. A fresh pancake in the mud.
Surrendering to laziness, I thought of nothing and wept
Internally. Crying is too much effort.