Some nights, my body is a cemetery
Of all the things I needed to get done.
Laundry and sending that one email and putting that stupid dish away.
But I sit, and scroll, and scroll and scroll
As it turns 10 pm, 10:30, 11, 12,
And I feel as if I’m glued to the floor.
All I can do is scream at my brain
And ask,
What are you waiting for?
Is it coming at all?