The chocolate sits beside me on the couch
like a friend
it offers commiseration to my brittle feelings
The computer lounges to one side,
containing all my imaginary friends
(our viscous discussions stretch and pull my mind)
The dog lies stiffly disgruntled
speaking her disgust
with her eyes and her moans
“je veux faire une promenade“.
sit unproductive, sinking into my secondhand couch
whose aged springs support me unevenly,
and I consume my chocolate
and don’t go for a walk,
and think about the chocolate I shouldn’t consume
and the walk I should take.