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I'm bored.
I want to hit up
people I don't
care about
and go have a beer
and loads of cigarettes
hold each other's shoulders
in a group in some bar
and laugh like
we are real friends
even though
I've quit
that life.

I'm just bored
and that's
what bored man do.
They go out
and pretend that life
is better than it actually is
and we intoxicate
our selves with drink
and smoke
and plenty of other things.

But instead
I lay in bed
reading a book
I'm half way through
it's good
but it's not enough.
My feet stink
I refuse to get up
and shower
I'll just change socks,
my teeth feel off
from the coke I drank
and I haven't brushed them
since yesterday,
and my poems
hit like heavy hitters
would back in the day
where boxing wasn't
rigged
or ran by punks
with YouTube channels.

*******.
What boredom
makes a man do
in times of need.
Maybe
I should take
a walk
but I'll sit here
marinate on my own
fight against addiction
lack of connection
and poor hygiene.

I'll invite my dog up to bed
and let him lay on me
while he stares at the wall
and I'll stay bored
and write a poem
that won't hit like the rest
but as least
will serve
a purpose
as my girl
waxes her legs
and waits for me
to say something.

— The End —