A futile Quest

Sometimes I wake, and then have a seizure
From last night’s antics, which then brings on amnesia
Sometimes I sleep, for just a few hours
From drinking so much, the feeling is sour
Sometimes I wake and I clean - leisure
All the mess in my room, such a mess!
Neither are good, cos in this place its cold
Not just the temp, but severe lack of help
Sometimes I wake, and speak with my cat
The only good thing in my life, and here I am sat
Staring at the screen, my writing’s obscene
Cos there is fuck all to do, and I don’t have a clue
How to help my cat, or help myself. But I try.
I have a fixture; I’m fixated on helping
I have some screws loose, so cannot fix her
Sometimes I think, that it’s a futile quest
Trying to help, the quest equals stress
Sometimes I dream and when awake, wish I hadn’t
Cos dreams are not real, reality’s bad
I watch people walk past and think they walk fast
I wonder where they go, light bulb moment, it glows:
People walk from their problems, and life’s many blows
It’s a futile quest, it doesn’t lessen the mess
But one has to try, I won’t stop till I die
Then I can finally rest.