chinaski was right/whiplash

when t.v. shows had finally bored me
and I had no other games left to play,
the boredom hit me like a whiplash.
I went up through the corridor
and walked down the fake wooden floors.
the light was on,
though flickering.
I wasn't going to bother 
I wasn't going to change the lightbulb.
I turned on a desklamp 
and glanced back
at the glossy pages
of a business book.
I glanced down at my box of matches
and the remedy bottle.
for a second, 
a fraction of time,
I realised I was very sad.
I am very, terribly, uncontrollably sad.
I just can't see why.
skies bore me
rain bores me
sunshine bores me
you bore me.
boredom is the saddest of emotions.
how am I incomplete?
how are my self preservation standards 
so ruined?
I just really want to damn it all
and call you up-
I can't.
I am too sad
and so are you.
we live our sad little lives
through plastic books
and dirty geography texts.
I live for the strategy and the humour,
I just don't know what you live for.
everyone thinks I am pissed off
but I'm just truly
tired of it all.
maybe Chinaski was right
in feeling miserable
all this time.
my existence
back into