I lie in bed,

reach for the screen

lit in its sickly

glowing sheen

I wallow deep,

my finger scrolling,

disengaged

I just keep rolling

“You fool,” I cry

“Get up, get up now!”

I’d like to,

but I don’t know how

At last, I slouch out

down the hall

to the kitchen,

then I stall

Fridge…or phone?

“Not phone again!”

Put it down

and count to ten.

My bleary gaze

turns to the sink.

The plates piled high,

I start to think

I open cupboards;

things shoved in

come spilling out…

I need a gin

Yes, now it’s time

with drink knocked back

to tidy up,

and sort and stack.

I get to midnight

and despair,

“Where should I put

this Tupperware?”

Ah… leave it

for another day.

Another day

I’ll find my way.