Dear lord,
Please help me know.
That these feelings I feel
Will come to go.
Guide me through paths
That frost in snow.
Cover me in sun
To dim the unknown.
And lord,
Please know,
Before I go,

I feel ill at mind,
But hope in my soul.

You’re right—
I’m just making excuses.
Why am I so 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥
All of the time?

“You get more sleep
Than 99 percent
Of your friends,”
You said.

So doesn’t that mean
I am supposed to be
Happy?

“Be happy,”
I say to myself
In my head.

I am supposed to be
Fine.

But I am not,
And all I have left
Is excuses.

And yet,
Why do I look for more?

I want somebody
To tell me
That you are not right.

But I know you are.

I stare at those dark markings above,
Knowing how tired I am.

There's a fetid vibration humming
Through my bones,
Through my blood,
Through my every thought.

I'm so exhausted,
Yet I can't sleep.
I'm so exhausted
That the only pill
That could put me to sleep
Is a stray bullet.

There's a rancid susurration chiming
Through my flesh,
Through my bones,
Through the very essence of my coil.

I'm so tired
And in need of sleep.
I'm so tired
That even the cold steel
Of the train tracks
Welcomes me
As the only pillow
I can see myself able
To rest my head upon.

There's a rotten pulsation howling
Through my blood,
Through my bones,
Throughout.

I'm so drained
That an eternity of sleep
Just wouldn't do
Anything...
My only solace
Are the minute finger prints
That echo a memory of starlight
On a darkened ceiling.

Exhaustion is a thousand starving mouths;
Insomnia, a single gnawing doubt.

It’s like a stone
Being added
To the weight
On your back
And then
And then it just breaks.

It’s like when
As a kid
You would wave
Around the bubble wand
And watch it stretch
And strain
And then
And then it just pops.

It’s like running
Until you can’t anymore
Until you’re on
The side of the road
And you can’t breathe
Because knives
Are slicing
Into your lungs.

It’s laying on your bed
Never wanting to get up.

It’s this.

I could write
on emotion alone.
Through bitterness,
I sought beauty.
With rage,
I expressed
the torrent within.
All was aflame,
all had burned brightly.

But now,
it is naught but a flicker.
I pass time quietly,
as the ash of past emotions
blanket the landscape with grey.
I am tired.
I fear I may
never recover.