Unread correspondence lies in despondence
Gathering dust on the shelves
Journal subscriptions of countless descriptions
Piled on top of themselves

Confirmations of blood donations
That never will be attended
Leaflets unnumbered, the walls are encumbered
Far more than was ever intended

Postcards from the tropics discussing dull topics
Like “them ****** foreigners” and rain
Parcels were ordered, were barely afforded
Never to be mentioned again

You’ve got something yourself, squeezing onto a shelf
That’s as packed as the Vatican’s coffers
But it’s weeks out of date and you’re several days late
To respond to the business it offers