A Write

I’m sitting in my writing chair
And staring into space.
The page is empty – there is nothing
Even to erase.

I’m tapped out of ideas right now
And way too pooped to pop.
At least I’ll get a few lines down
Before my eyelids drop.

It would be wrong for me and you
To skip this poem tonight,
So I will post it just because
Two wrongs require a write.