"
Do you ever just lay down
And look at the wall in the dark
And listen to your fan spin
And feel an overwhelming sense of existential helplessness?

So you draw your sheet closer around you,
but moving it puts colder parts of the sheets on you,
plus now your feet are uncovered, so you move,
but that makes the fitted sheet come undone.

So you kind of just fidget
and it feels like there's a vice around your chest
and you try to think
But your thought won't fully solidify

So it just feels like you're floating
in this broken word soup
and the only thing that forms is
'How did it get to this?'
"