what needs to be done

enough is enough is enough.
How many more hours, How many more days, weeks, months and years?
I could sit here till it's time to retire - they'd still pay me and I'd still do as I'm told and what needs to be done. But what's in it for me?
Wages for rent, bills, food and holidays, but this is not the only source of money and it is certainly not the most convenient.

So -
Live life until you are twenty-five,
Because you'll spend the rest
avoiding and putting off death.
Find a second wind - begin again.

Thus I start from scratch, looking at the surface for indentations I've made over the years - if there is something there surely you would feel it rather than hastening and chastening this life away. There must be something better I could be doing with this time and talent that I've been awarded. But by the time I get home my eyelids will be upon me and the chores will be waiting to occupy an evening spilling over with sport on the tv.
And so all hope is lost and I'll be back tomorrow. Same time, same place, same disillusioned face.

"grey skies get under my skin"

just another grey day in august England.
I can't stand this so called summer.
If things don't change come next december
I'll be ready and fit to explode.
Because wind and rain don't drive me -
anywhere but home.