The Usual

Usual weekday,
Where everyone’s out.
Nobody’s on,
And it’s makin’ us pout.

Headaches as usual,
Strapped for cash.
Someone reply,
Please make it fast.

Watching the clock,
Try to hurry the time.
From feeling down low,
To flying up high.

Playing my card games,
He stares at the screen.
Hoping that someone,
Will be just as keen.

All of my poems,
Become something silly.
Helping me think right,
While ya’ll have a billy.

Stoners and tweakers,
And those in between.
All of the partiers,
Equally keen.

Wait by the telephone,
Hope they will call.
Midnight rolls round,
And it’s all just a stall.

Result of the usual,
Keep repeating the same.
Day in and day out,
It’s all a sick game.