Same Old

i’m sick of being alive

the same old

same old

same old

ad infinitum

{bloody hell spell check is questioning infinitum!!!! NO! it is not infinitude you ignoramus of a programme!!}

no use to anyone {me and the programme}

the world would get along without me

without all of us

we are a very destructive {and creative} blot


and I’m stuck


with the same old same old

and this is a really bad poem

not one to go out on

which I can’t do anyway



but later

much later

the choice is mine

and I should just keep on typing

it really doesn’t matter whether I type or not

because I’m not really



totally invisible

even though I said I am sick of being here

I’m here and not here at the same time

Schrodinger’s here


I wish I had a cat

my soul yearns for a cat

my soul just yearns

for anything