Probable Meaning [rev] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

I'm shimming about the house and looking like an
oversized lampshade, jittery with impending doom
feelings following every move, not knowing when
to start to meditate since it can be done all through
the day - I can't decide the time, feeling confused

Doing the laundry & watching National Geographic
programmes searching for the hopping crocodile;
after a week of over-sugaring on chocolates while
visiting my relations, real food seems boring and
pointless; tried sorting half-filled notebooks last

Night to decide which to trash - but the little alien
in my head got too agitated, I relented, decided to
junk nothing - but what's the point of even sorting
them then? Now I'm just hanging about the house,
buying fabrics I don't need & filling mega-big bags

With notebooks 'til they are too heavy to move; I'm
making NO headway trying to tidy; I'm a hoarder &
there's no stopping the dictatorial little alien in my
head proclaiming notebooks and printed internet
information sacred - caught in a mental inner fight

Between rational clearing of clutter - and the little
tyrant in charge - I'm too fatigued to fight back and
thus evade debate by dithering and pottering and
wondering about the probable meaning of my
useless existence….