Listlessness enshrouds me.
Nothing enraptures me.
Boredom prevails.
Still summer nights lead to a lassitude
so entombed, even retiring to bed is exhaustion.
Too much time on my hands
holds me in a torpor.
Indolent indifference infects me,
and all that I touch.
I'd like to find excitement but even that
is too much hard work.
I sit by the river, watch it sluggishly move,
dip my toe, then my feet, soon I'm almost submerged.
Ophelia like I dance on the drifting water.
Wearily I watch the shore disappear,
under a moon that is now my chandelier.
And an ennui now lost, to a drowning reverie.