Pointless and Unorganized

I sit on a seat

and dig through my mind

and find

that

 I don't want to do anything

but sit

on

a seat.

Fingers run 

through my hair

they're

mine,

they do this

all the time.

I haven't much to say

I'd rather stay

in white nothingness

If you please.

I just don't want to

think.

It's just so hard 

to write 

this.

And maybe I'll quit

and maybe

 I'll paint

my nails.