my eyes will not make it alone

I like sleeping in my bed alone,
I stretch my body
make two new angles
warm
and cold at the same time

I flicker as I switch the bright
light bulb, brightening bed
and eyes.

I am so ready
to write
and yet I am so alone
supposedly trying to write a poem.
It is cold,
and bright
and my eyes will not make it alone.

I drift to different lands
I cringe at separate hands
and yet I am still perceived to be here

Am I really?
Am I really?

Who knows.