Is there a name for being bored but, at the same time, not wanting to do anything? [poem]

boredom creeps

and the tinted, dirt speckled screen

is no company

when up against

the blood orange gaze of the sun –

burn covering my chest

from yesterday’s bake off.

there’s no escape from boredom

when you’re not procrastinating

because there’s nowt to do

in the first place

but the level of pressure

squashing that nowt

is not nowt at all –

it’s a monstrous fun sponge

sucking life and love from limb

rendering days dry

and desolate

mouths open

but nothing to say

fingers shoved into gussets

in search of redemption.

lemon groves and Spanish marble

sultry Split and Big Apples

so rosy your mouth waters

are so far away

you can’t taste the freedom anymore

and pearl-stained beaches

are no longer on the horizon.

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