The 3 Ms - Meds, Moans & Movements (Poetry)

I’ve been keeping a record
making a note
of the pain and pills
every poo anecdote

It’s a boring old diary —
no structure, no plot
and there’s no end in sight
as I scribble and jot

No pattern to see
no conclusion to draw
Is it worth all the ink?
What the fuck is it for?

Should I simply give up? —
Take up knitting instead?
But I can’t break the habit —
the page must be fed

So I fill in the days
and don’t count the years
I can’t tell if it helps
only time disappears

The notebooks pile up
as the symptoms run rife
I just down a few drugs
and get on with my life