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?