In the room.

   As the door closes, an old plastic bag rolls like a tumble weed across the floor.
   The T.V. acts like a  hot desert sun that dries my brain.
   Around the room the books stand as a monument to knowledge.
   I stand like a storm caught in the dry, barren, desert, a helpless entity waiting to be rescued.
   Yet for this day, that is impossible, for the rest of the house is no better, or may be even worse.
   I know that the only place that my soul will rest to regain my energy is in this room, this desert.
   But I will not get rest here now for I have been cursed to stay awake till dark.
   The alarm clock stares at me with its glowing red numbers as if its trying to make a statement.
   There are things I could do but I haven't the energy to do them.
   I wait looking at a flashing white light trying to think of a series of words with which to pass my time.
   There are about three hours left till dark. What will I do?