Tedium, Ennui, Blah, Boredom

Mike Essig
Jul 22, 2017 · 1 min read
Bored Panda

The day breaks like frayed shoe laces
and the situation only gets bleaker from there.
Poems written, bed made, dishes done,
it’s seven AM and the day is shot.
Not to say it couldn’t redeem itself.
The mailman could deliver a bag of dead rats.
The food stamp Nazis could drop by
to ensure you are still appropriately thin.
Armies of angry squirrels could mass
outside your door preparing to begin their
drive for world domination with you.
Your cat might finally begin to speak,
albeit in a language you don’t understand
or things could get really interesting
and it might just begin to rain.
After all, hope is a rabid dog that dies hard.
But none of these surprises are very likely.
Physics says that inertia overcomes motion
and we are as rarely strong as our imaginations.
Don’t fret, soon enough it will be evening
and you can fall asleep, best part of the day.


Other Voices

A sanctuary for orphaned poems and prose.

Mike Essig

Written by

Honorary Schizophrenic. Recent refugee. Displaced person. Old white male. Confidant of cassowaries.

Other Voices

A sanctuary for orphaned poems and prose.

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