I am up way past my bedtime
and I can't manage to go to sleep-
my stomach is full of nausea and
there's the chicken I meant to cook
in my fridge and yet I couldn't
bring myself to get around to cooking
it as there were a thousand steps
between here and there and
I don't have it in me anymore.
The air that ballooned me
on memories of touch
has hissed out
flat and now
empty