No strings attached she said.
I only wanted a pluck.

Once a five oclock shadow, now an unkempt beard
This reflecting familiar looks a little weird
My straggly hair, my unwashed clothes
My lack of self confidence grows and grows.
A lack of interest, no get up and go
My personal hygiene at an all time low
So many plans I have lodged in my head
If only I could turf myself out of this bed

I Want To Be A Procrastinator.
Not Now, Maybe Later.

I wake with tired eyes.
But what are they tired of?
Tired of life, the horrors and injustices in this world?
These old wise eyes know when something is wrong,
Even when my indifferent brain doesn't.
It's their way of letting me know

World Weary And Walking Dead
I Have Outstayed My Welcome
It's Time For Bed

Weighed Down And Wafer Thin,
These Eyelids Surrender To Slumber.

A breathe of fresh air
Or a simple breeze
But when Doris is scorned
She will strike with ease
Tearing a path through a well planned day
Ripping apart that what gets in the way
There is no mercy, no leeway or pity
An invisible force, she can level a city
Wreaking havoc and damage untold
No heed for the stupid, the brave or the bold