myself and I

In this internal conversation
     between myself and I
sitting at this table
     drinking tea,
too many sentences start with “I need”—
“I need to set up this project...”
“I need to do [this] today...”

A fog of weight
has settled down on me—
the weight of needs—
I need this... I need that...—
a weight of loneliness
that makes it difficult
to move, or breathe.

“I need to write a better poem”
I say to myself.
Myself does not reply.
The tea is cold.
And despite these needs
there is no desire.