Carly Hardy, Birds of Prey
Boredom takes a seat pouring a slow molasses like lethargy over my being.
I feel imprisoned in this nothingness—nothing motivates or stirs me.
Yes, I know the masses stand with their little list perched as sheet music ready to sing their operatic song of what I should or could do to escape boredom‘s hold.
Sing on if you must.
My ears hear you—my mind won’t listen.
Enfolded in the lull of boredom’s cradle, nothing penetrates this trap.
I wait it out until the next day.
Upon rising, I’m as good as new with a million and one things to do.
However, right now—this moment—I’m boredom’s prey.
©2012 Nesi Writes
Don Russell, Fleeing Evil
Boredom nips at my heels—demanding satisfaction.
I run from its hunger because I’m left empty when boredom hounds me.
Boredom is a ravenous bottomless pit.
If I turn to face this hound, requiring an explanation of its desires, what truth will it impart?
©2012, Nesi Writes