Sometimes it used to get me like that:
Hung me up,
Wrung me out,
Seemed to stop me doing what I knew I should
For some reasonably unconscionable reason
With just about enough momentary validity
To be sufficiently attractive to me,
And send me sheering off tangentially
In search of that which shouldn't be.
Then I'd sink (not entirely unwillingly)
Into an armchair of inevitability
Clawing at me,
Clutching at me,
Sucking me slowly and steadily
Toward a comfortable, mild insanity
In which I'd be short of salvation by phone or pen,
But no longer caring much, by then.
Tony Jolley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-armchair-of-inevitability/
