AND REPEAT.

Here is the latest in Brother Binky's series of, "Mundane poetry".
Stay safe, and stay inside.
Brother Biscuit-Banjo.

And repeat.

I try to fill my empty days, I cook,

I write, I exercise, at least sometimes.

But when the evening comes along again,

I feel it's justified to watch TV.

If something peaks my interest, I'll watch,

A film or documentary if I can.

But mostly I am watching things I've seen,

Before. Repeat, repeat, repeat some more.

It's comforting to watch a thing I know.

I sometimes think I waist a lot of life.

Just one more time, I'll spend the night relaxed,

With shows I met when I was growing up.

Tomorrow I will start on something new,

So many things that people recommend.

A comfy chair, the evening's closing in,

Familia lines go round the screen again.

The credits roll, it's time to carry on,

With series two, one more before I sleep.

I try to reach for my remote control,

My hands won't move, my head is stuck as well.

My eyes feel sore, I try to squeeze them closed,

But they won't move, the episode begins.

The intro tune invades my panicked ears,

My body's frozen in this comfy chair.

The show repeats, the one that I just saw,

It ends, then starts, then ends and starts again.

My eyes are dry and racked with stabbing pain,

I need a piss, my bowels begin to move.

That fucking show just ends then starts again,

I've heard the words so many times, but this,

Is torture. What's that noise that I can hear?

A drip that comes from under me, it smells.

My fucking eyes, they need to fucking close.

The credits roll, but then it starts again,

The puddle spreads and starts to make me cold.

I think I'm fusing with this comfy chair.

Excruciating pins inside my head.

I try to move my hand one final time,

But I just sit, and watch the same repeat.