7 June, 4pm

Diagnosed myself
with grotesque tiredness
and loss of interest.

Wind blows the leaves
endlessly outside.
Conspiring whispers
in billowing green.

This is summer.
Rain lashing,
sun absconded
with my joie de vivre.

Expectations lying
piled against the door.
Planes flying
to exotic places:
Newcastle, Lille.

Grey, dreary places.
Think I'll just lie here,
close my eyes
and sleep a while.

Maybe,
if I was less tired...
Well, maybe not.
Don't much care really.

Let the wind blow
and the rain fall.
I'm too tired to care.
Too weary now
to do fuck all today.