like when i'm in the room
with an illness
or a smog
like the room is the size of
a fingernail
and i am the size of
a grain of salt
and i can't even think of tweets
because all i do is sit and
read
i think i am moving closer
to a nursing home
i feel disgusted when
i write about food
so instead i write about
eating gla**
from three feet away
i hear my phone vibrate
as soon as i finish fidgeting
i'll look at it
and maybe pa** out
paint is dripping
all over my nerve cells