Time changes people,
Power chains people.
What changed in me?
Whatever chained me!
Oh subtle judgement
and standard teleology,

Tell me:
Is the world
worth pondering,
Or is this all just
time wasting?
Thinking,
Longing;

Ruminating over purpose,
Contemplating loneliness,
Tell me: what am I typing?
These poems used to be my
escape, my passion, carefully
constructed as words were con-
-verted from temporal lifeblood
into digital ink which still I spill
over, the words trying, to find
something worth posting for
but sometimes it feels as if I
am not obsessing over these
sentences enough to pick up
the pieces, unapologetically I
throw out another uninspired
verse. Poetry's best not thought of
as work and therein lies the problem:

Me,
Writing the same poem
for the umpteenth time,
It feels like we've been
here before but can't seem
to remember; of which this piece is
a perfect example, disinspiration.