Boredom and what it can do to me

People always say, how do you finish so fast? The answer is, I do a lot of guesswork based on intuition, which really doesn't require lots of time (this is why I finished Paper 2 at the last minute). So what do I do in that leftover time? I dream, I draw. And of course, I write. I write the memorised songs in my head. And I also write poems (and unfinished anecdotes - of course). This is one I wrote during the BM Paper 1 (which Sue Faye and Jeffery confessed to not understanding, as it really doesn't have much meaning. It's ok if you don't either. It doesn't rhyme.):


The boredom grips me.
I can taste the darkness of indifference.
For the excitement of reality
The sinking fear, adrenalin
has past. The time has come
for me to fall into the black pit that
has ensnared many before me.
Precious time slips away, weighed by grains of sand
Infinite to mankind, limited to man.
I dream of what I could do if
I were not trapped in this brief eternity

(At this point I got carried away: the papers were getting collected)
And then it comes -
The saviour, the hand,
the colour in the darkness that pulls me
from the hole.
I am freed, though
only from the cage.
The chains still bind me.
But yet their cold touch
gives me comfort that liberation
of them cannot.

The anchor holds me
Freedom of it, I fear
I depend upon these bonds that clutch me
Holding on tight to us all
The prisoners come and go
I bear them not forever.


Afterwards there was a sucessor:

Silence, empty, within and without.
The strangeness of yawning hope and
solitude, poisoned by suspicion.
The den of deathly open jaws
that consumes those society shuns
shuts but upon us. Torn apart, limb from limb
by the agony of lonesomeness.
Though it is self-inflicted (or is it?)
The blade thrusts as deep as
if it were of another.