Executing My World-weariness

For a "Make me feel your emotion" contest. I tried.

Dearest laptop of mine,

Prepare to rhyme,

Thesaurus with substitutes,

Open in a tab to use,

Click on submit,

Saying "THIS is it",

I'll get there eventually,

Until then, I fight my fatigue.

My butt is against the floor,

Feeling the static feed,

Kind of weird to think of my a*s,

As a TV.

I'm showing great posture,

As I bend and curl,

Against pillow,

upon pillow,

upon pillow,

Sprawled out lady-like, for sure.

My fingers are dancing,

Choreographed with the thoughts in my head,

A little click click here,

My backspace button is pounded to death.

Music is overlapping my words,

Making it hard to rhyme,

Stupid, beautiful lyrics,

Mess me up all the time.

I suppose this is an emotion poem,

Not one where I complain,

But refuse to stretch,

'Cause being active is lame.

Emotions are in a flurry,

Not many are distinct,

I'm simply in my basement,

Hiding from the heat.

Emotions are hard to separate,

Let alone describe,

As my keys,

My butt,

My music,

And the lights,

Mix up with boredom,

And my lazy brain.