That is, if I am to be a tad
more verbose in my query,
what is the point of all this?
Why bother with any
of the choices and decisions?

I am having a struggle, it might
be the depression (it is) but
I sit, I stand, I think about
things to be read, television to
be watched, tasks to be completed
and I question the point.
What time have I left?

A morbid thought,
one that punches daily
like an alarm clock shrilling
at random intervals, broken timing.
I do not wish to voice the
weird internal pangs,
for fear of worry out of those
who still read this, few
though they may be, for now
I shall just toil with them,
weed them from my soul,
keep on keeping on, they say.