These Days

Here is a poem.

These Days

Maybe I’ll play a game;
there’s a game I’m partway through.
Or maybe I’ll read a book;
I want to read them all.

I pick up my phone,
and unread messages
demand my time,
but I don’t have time
to answer.

When did I speak to my family last?

Maybe I’m hungry,
for something aside from snacks.
Maybe I’m lonely,
but my life has people
and pets.

I pick up my laptop
to write a story,
but words don’t come.
I think that maybe--
But I need to stop.

When was the last time I truly slept?