periods of zilch
just when I need either of them
my Fairy Godmother or Godfather
those letdowns don't appear
to grant my wish for a return to excitements
of any kind
uplifting necessities to avert boredom
from greying its way into my life.
Mr Nothing and Mr Yawn
the tedious twosome drably parading
their miserable presences
past the window of my mind
like a pair of leaden shoed ogres
dragging their feet through stiffening mud
or two irreparable robots gradually rusting to a standstill.
Oh! let it be that before I am at one with dead
something other than a queue of zeroes will
arrive to fill the hollowness in between now and then.
My frustration screams 'BUGGER!' repeatedly.
Maybe just maybe unfairly finding fault
with the next person, I come across
as long as they are of a smaller stature than myself
might open up a snack box of relief
and derail the train to nowhere.
Well, for a short argumentatively interesting while at least!