the time turns to one o'clock
on my bed
shoulders hunched forward
dull eyes
forward
fixed onto a screen
scrolling
down.

the time turns to one fifty
the skin underneath my eyes heavy
but slick
weathered
browned
dark
like bruises on my face

the time turns to two o'clock
the door left ajar
blue light filter
permeates
darkness
the optometrist is
closed
on Tuesdays

the time turns to two forty
bad back
smelly mouth
oily skin
the screen stays on

i don't sleep