It’s been two weeks since I last had work,
My mother keeps telling me it’s a vocational burp.
You’re freelance she cries, it’s no surprise.
You’re on the right track, cut yourself some slack.
But I dislike my work, why would I want more?
You’re a broken record darling, you’re becoming a bore.
So, what’s left for me JobSeekers Allowance?
I can picture the scene, imagine the glowers.
Please fill in your National Insurance number not your name.
Then pull up your hood to hide your shame.
So I sit and I write and I go to edits.
Check my bank balance, I’m still in credit.
I used to get up at half past seven,
Today I didn’t get up until a quarter to eleven.
In sleep I dream and I pass the hours.
Missing the dawn chorus, lazy as Dane Bowers.
It was only today, why all the guilt?
Because it is with lack of self discipline we start to wilt.
So I sit and I write and I got to edits.
Thank God for tomorrow’s meeting where I can regain my merit.