I hate the very idea that I am wasting time
Even though I waste so much of it.
Just today I found myself sitting upright in bed
And not doing anything else –
I don’t even remember about what I was thinking.
I could have been sitting like that for a few seconds
Or a half an hour, I really don’t know.
I looked for my headphones
And put on some music
So at least I was doing something, you know?
I do that a lot, by which I mean, I do two
Or even three things at once
So I can feel like I’m not wasting time.
Meanwhile, I am strangling the life from my nights
And sleeping away my days,
Just waiting and waiting and I don’t even know for what
But I keep waiting and waiting –
I eat dinner while I watch TV and read poetry while I listen to music
To make it seem like I’m making good time
But every day I find
I’ve fallen even farther behind.
The hours have died without ceremony
And their corpses lie unmourned behind me
While up ahead the hours to come
Already look sickly and spent,
The road shoddy and worn.
I put on my headphones, turn up the music
The road comes up on me and I wait.
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals in the last dozen years. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.