Tiredness is overwhelming,
The distress is stringing,
Thoughts expressionless,
Though my writings are endless.

~A.d | 16 Dec 2014

Don’t you hate it when you sleep for eight hours

and still can’t get out of bed.

still tired and wanting to sink in that bed.

yet others live off two or three hours of sleep

and feel fine the next day.

In the factory I was working beside

a guy who said he had a great sleep yet

couldn’t stop passing out on the line.

he told me years ago he almost died right here

from OD’ing on opiates.

Now he was dying right in front of me from tiredness.

I had two hours of sleep.

felt alright.

Soon got a headache, and the black under my eyes was still there

but I was feeling alright.

People always tell me that the tiredness will go away with a lot of sleep and the right date
Eight hour nights have become imaginary bliss when my eyelids are clouded by your image
I told myself that I wouldn't date because you put your hands up my shirt in a bathroom one afternoon
That didn't let me sleep
Who is to say a boy would allow that type of peace
The closest I've come to sleep was when you tried to teach me to dance
I couldn't help but laugh when you taught me to turn during a waltz
Dancing is never a dying girl's forte
This tiredness has yet to go away and I'm running out of options
Old methods of waking are failing me in a way you never have
Tiredness comes from my lack of loving you the way I want to
Your hand on my leg would always bring a nice about of rest
Sitting outside for lunch is easier for you when the circumstances call for ignoring it all

AND ACCORDING TO THEM, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH ME ANYMORE SO WE HAVE TO HIDE IT AWAY AND THIS IS STARTING TO FEEL LIKE I'M JUST A PASSING PHASE AND I WANT TO BE MORE THAN JUST A NOTCH IN YOUR BEST POST BECAUSE YOU ARE MUCH MORE THAN A LINE IN A SONG AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT FOR A WRITER LIKE ME.

Apologizing is becoming a strong suit of mine
"Sorry"s keep spilling from my mouth because I want you
I'm sorry I let the tiredness eat me away a year ago
I'm sorry I want it to consume me now
I'm sorry for loving you the way I do
I'm sorry for being so tired.

But, darling.
I'm.
Just.
Tired.

evidence of my passing through
each room litters every surface
time worn skin points to decades
living contact with the elements
tongue and lips pronouncing
thousand thousand words each
requiring breath ****** in lungs
clotted breathlessness spent health
eyes worn out of looking so much
seen before and counting once more
the tiredness haunting my very essence

Tiredness
The four kinds:
Tired is my body
Tired is my mind
Tired is my soul
and
Tired is my heart..

HALF A POUND OF INSOMNIA WITH A LARGE DOLLOP OF TIREDNESS ON TOP

Sleep lies languidly
upon the chaise longue.

I sit uncomfortably in
an old wicker chair.

We stare at each other.
Say - nothing.

Neither of us
blinks.

I have counted  exactly
two thousand and 2....3. . .

sheep.
They fill up the room

with a loud baaing.
There is no grass in the room.

But I am more awake
than ever.

Sleep and I
do not see eye to eye.

Sleep annoyed by now
goes to the window

where even the moon is
dreaming.

A  hill
long gone.

Trees snore
their breath rustling their leaves.

"Why do I always
have this trouble with you?"

Sleep snaps
without looking at me.

I try to change
the subject.

"I didn't know you
could manifest like this?"

I venture for the sake
of the argument.

"Oh no...now you've gone
and trapped me in a poem!"

In the early hours
of the coming day

even Sleep
falls asleep.

I yawn
exaggeratedly .

Hum KLF's
"It's three am eternal!"

Each of the now 2000 and 4...5
join in

with a tuneless
baaing.

Tiredness,
The slow drag of life walking by.
This all ending never beginning,
Time after time.
No gumption or motion,
To bring forth arising devotion.
To perspire and prepare for the upcoming road ahead,
No energy left.
Feeling dead,
So tired and exhausted.
Rather stay in bed.

I want to fly into the skies,
like nightingales
and rest on roses
with my tender being.
Now my mind lies
on each leaf,
like shadows do in the summer.

If I could only tell
all my worries to myself,
because I am chained to tiredness,
and so cannot talk,
let alone sing about them.

I am tired of the tiredness itself
which is even to tired to consume me,
so that I could go through the digestive system of tiredness
and come out again,
at least those parts of me,
that the bowels of tiredness can't digest.

I am tired of my rants
like a millions hammers
pounding away in my brain
constant chatter drowns sanity
expectations love and affection
comfort insecurities and misadventures
regrets lost and found
a million lives not lived
what could be and what is
hauntings and remembrances
shadows looming large on today
today that is not perfect
perfection that is just in mind
mind on verge of lunacy
constant screams drowned
in the agonizing void
void that is my life

I am tired, very tired

tears they have a mind of their own
roll down when you least expect
open your soul to strangers
strangers that glare
stay in dark away from glare
tucked in blanket of oblivion
lost and lonely yet sane
lost and lonely yet sane

Why are you so tired you just had two extra days off of school**

The thing is though,
The tiredness I feel can't be relieved.
There are not enough minutes, hours, days, months, or years of sleeping that could cure the tiredness I feel.
No amount of sleep will get rid of the weariness I feel.
You see, although I do not sleep much because of the never ending nightmares.
I am more worn from having to drag myself out of bed every morning.
Paint on the smile.
Pile the coverup on my wrists.
My heart feels so heavy.
My mind is overwhelmed.
You see, no amount of sleep could cure the tiredness inside me.