I sit at the table, half-lit
by the weakening autumn sun,
applying for jobs, oh my lord,
what have I done? The tea is hot
and hearing faint but crisp alarms
(there must have been a powercut)
– or is that just my tinnitus)
I am steeped in apocalypse –
I am confident in using
Microsoft word, oh old my lord
I thought people were born that way
– just for today, far poverty –
I am giving up videogames.
A dog would be easier trained
– more visible – for I can’t see
myself, oh my lord, to see wrong.
The orange leaves glow so cutely.
Something terrible has happened –
I have met someone who just might
make me get my act together –
I scrape myself with shards of pot
and pour ashes on my head, and
I can use Excel with all haste, lord
my shortcuts are so sharp, so keen