my sick day weakens my sneakers. i hear the baby cry for thirty hours. i play video games for two hours, drink two rum and cokes, then pause the game, sigh and rub my eyes till they bleed. my chest wheezes. as i move to the sink, the door frames blur. i do things to the dishes. my eyes see the eyes of spoons. i pour another drink. i become drunk. i feel like saying goodnight to babies. the people must be enjoying their night. music plays somewhere for everyone. i haven't heard any music today. when i finish my third drink, i read poems. i'm doing tricks in the video game without completing goals. as i make the guy with the skateboard jump over stairs the board rotates 360 degrees and does one lateral flip. he then lands back on the board. the game makes clicking and rolling sounds. light moves across the wall then the ceiling. the shapes stretch, and shrink, then are gone. i stare at the paused game's screen. i am aware of a low-level numbness, like a rubber-band ball catching dust and hairs. my numbness is the result of years of frustration. i feel isolated, my thoughts stew. we stay beneath the couch until insanity. i am staring with unfocused eyes at the computer screen. my thoughts went away and came back with negative results. i think there might be a small toy somewhere in the world that can change my emotion. i want a chance to talk to this toy. i will try very hard to make you feel better. i will make you like me again. . . the light leaves my apartment for the light i know. when we talk again i want to hold your scapula. we all will drink in separate locations. my video game wants me to play again. i'm thinking about a story i read earlier. i want to tell the person in the story there's nothing wrong with talking to your cats. this girl i like and the city allocate their locations rhetorically. the linear placement of cars has a gentle curve. people live in these connected materials. the cars wait below like cars that don't matter.