Listless

Listless

I sit down to work

Staring at the screen

And at the doodles

In my notebook

I feel

No former fire

No burning will to

No desperation, no

Will at all.

I feel ashamed

But my conscience

Stays unaffected

Rather

Wondering

If

I had

Let myself

Down badly.

All I do

Is

Pretend

To

Write

Great

Poetry

When

All

I actually

Do

Is

Break up

Sentences

Reassemble,

Play

Juggle

Or

Use high

-handed words

To describe

Mundane stuff

I am again

Writing merely

To assuage

A conscience

That berates me

Not because

I don’t work,

But because

I didn’t

Create

Learn

Or do

Anything

I

Consider

Worth my

While.

There

You go

again

.

Please

Feel

Free to

Criticize

This

Tear it apart

For I am

Disappointed

Myself.

This is

Definite proof

Of

An

Idle

Mind.

So lazy

Even the

Devil

Would

Think twice

Before

Turning it

Into

His workshop

To

Think

We need

Some kind of

Stimulus

That throws

One’s mind

Into a frenzy

Seeking

Resolution

Until then

Restless

So come in

All ye

conflicts of the world

enter the idle arena

set us thinking

that

satisfaction

may be gained

from sorting

out a

conflict

that would

otherwise

run into

anger

and

fear

two faculties

that

eliminate

existence

before emotions

run

high

and

nothing

is left.