I am so tired.

Weariness
  aches in every *****,
  weighs on every limb,
  drags at every thought.

My face is haggard, drawn and gray.
My eyes are burning coals
  sunk deep into the dark pits of their sockets.
My muscles clench in terror,
    as I panic at sudden noises
    and unexpected physical contact
  but they burn with exhaustion
  and I beg them to stop
  before they tear themselves apart
  and me with them.
My movements alternate
  between sluggishness and flailing desperation.
My mind races with paranoia,
  strains to differentiate perceptions from its own creations,
  abandons both reason and reality.

But still I do not sleep,
  for the fear that preys upon me constantly in my waking hours
  runs rampant in the night,
And in my slumber
  I cannot clench my muscles to fight,
  I cannot run,
  I cannot even attempt to differentiate nightmare from reality.

Thus I flee my own consciousness,
  running from sagacity
  while still dragging my reason behind me.
It stretches,
  tighter and tighter,
  until it snaps,
And I go mad
  once again.