An early office arrival, inbox empty, no-one to
defuse my early morning grumpiness, no texts
to target my grudge on life against, forced to direct
displeasure at inane 7: 25 am animation in myself,
nursing a headache, feeling useless
Still in a state of shock replaying my daughter’s
flagrant driving this weekend in my head, lost on
how to solve existential conundrums or fete time
meaningfully when life seems so pointless in being
devoid of boring mountains of words
Filling emptiness with fury and anger, focusing my
mind on other people’s problems stated in dead-
end sentences – preferable to living a non-life in
office necromancy, twiddling my thumbs until
desultory but distracting documents arrive
Reality does not exert pressure on me, create a
need to escape, I am stuck in limbo, no idea how to
solve this strange challenge – existence without
challenge or pressure seems utter waste, I must
create my own reality, but where shall I begin?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem