"Evening All"

Tuesday nights
Should be for football.
But nothing caught my eye.
In truth I'm at a loss what to do
Sorry, I can't lie.
Could've stayed in my room
Bored watching a DVD
Went out for a bit instead
Pretending I'm not at all lonely.
A bit of social interaction
Make that a session
At the internet cafe in Forest Hill
Two hours flying by
Racking up a two pound bill.
I could have then gone home
But 'home made' therapy's best
I'd practically pre-planned my night
Jumping on a train up west.
In my bag I'd packed old bread
Too mouldy and dry to eat
Aiming for St. James's Park
Where ducks devour my treat.
Now i'm resting on a bench
Sat in Trafalgar Square
All I can heat are the fountains
And foreigners chatting in the air.
Nothing wrong with that
Except I'm a nosy git!
Earwigging's not a bad thing to do
When your life's so shit.
Resort to writing poetry
A few hundred yards from Charing Cross
Pretending I'm relaxing
This is how I doss.
I won't pretend to be depressed
But I don't enjoy being alive
This humdrum attempt of an existence
Is the most I can strive.
Getting to the stage where I'm scared of dying
But also scared to get too old
Growing tired of being Bill-No-Mates
If honest truth be told.
Tonight I could've found a match
For game forty-one of the season
Instead I'm under the shadow of Lord Nelson
Writing poetry...
For which there's no rhyme or reason.

Dulwich Poet 4th September 2018

( I wrote this on a Tuesday evening, with nothing much to do, as no football match really appealed...it made me realise how lonely life can be...)