Ian Copestick writes

Deadly Dull
Another deadly dull
Saturday night, some
may be out getting
good and drunk, but
time moves slowly
here in the suburbs.
There's nothing to
do but perform a
temporary lobotomy
on yourself with T.V.
and stuff yourself
with fatty, junk food
as you are doing it.
Your brain goes
numb, your arteries
clog up with crap and
cholesterol. This is
what passes for
living here and
now. Perhaps I am
going through a
depression of some
kind, it's happened
plenty of times
before. Even reading
and writing seem as
dull and predictable
as reality T.V. The
books are boring,
and I'm no bloody
different. As for
being a writer;
just who the fuck
do I think I am
kidding ?
Myself mainly.