hanging around
waiting for something to do
but there is nothing,
if he smoked he'd smoke a cigarette
fag-end of time
waiting
dynamic apathy, nothing
to do,
lives wasted in schizophrenia
wandering about, straying into cafes
hopeless pints
never a girlfriend
anxious hours
waiting-rooms, injections
occasional sweet moments of joy
a hundred years of boredom in a minute
Jesus spare us
John Thorkild Ellison
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lost-souls-5/
