Sometimes

Sometimes.
I don't feel like writing.
Sometimes.

Often.
I just sit here writhing.
Past nine.

Still up.
I just face my own whining.
Still up.

Sometimes.
My thoughts are all waiting.
To turn up.

Sometimes.
My thoughts are still living.
To be written down.

Sometimes.
My thoughts are the action.
While I'm lying in silence.

Sometimes.
A lot goes on when I should.
Be sleeping.

Usually.
That's how it is.
That's how we're rolling.

Sometimes.
It's just you and I still thinking.
In this world.