What kind of exhaustion is this?
The one that lingers under the creases of your eyes
Heavying body-cells to your bed
And yet being unable to slip into sleep.
I never seem to wake up anymore.

I thought, when I had cut you loose, and bled you out of my heart
and everything we ever did was nothing to me anymore
I would not be so tired, because after all, you exhausted me.

I thought that, now that I don't care about you
Now that I look in the mirror and see myself smiling again
Since you're no longer dragging me down
I would sleep better, and longer, and the tiredness would end.

But I'm still tired.

I don't think about you much now.
I have a new love, and he is everything you will never be
And I don't feel like I just ran forty miles when I'm with him
He doesn't put me second or try to change me.

But I'm still tired.

I think you drained me. You stole my energy and my love
And in return you made me feel like I was incomplete
Always out of reach, never quite enough
Like levels of a game I could never beat. But I tried
And that was my mistake.

I should have left you drunk on the floor.
I shouldn't have tired to save you
I'm glad I don't stay awake all night for you anymore.
All that was for nothing.

One day I think I'll finally sleep you off
And catch up on all the nights I should have rested
I am tired of bad lovers and sick people who want me to make them well and bloodsuckers who live off of the life in my veins.
I will no longer kill myself to keep anyone alive.
I will sleep, even if you do not.
And one day I will wake and it will be a bad dream
For he is not afraid to love me
And I think one day I will not be tired, only happy.
Title is Spanish for "always tired."
python Feb 23
I'm Bouncing towards the car to turn the exhaust on
My symptom is fatigue; my final diagnosis is exhaustion
I got no energy, no stamina to walk
I got no life left in me, not even to talk
I'll probably pass out when i'm behind the wheel
Seal the deal, bellow the hip I can't feel
Wake up in the hospital bed and look in the mirror
My teal coloured eyes are blooded like raw veal
I want to yell and to scream
But my lungs won't hold air
My eyes would flow like a stream
But there's no water there

And the days pass me by,
Though there's not many left
Can only breathe deep and sigh
Hold tight all that's left, bereft.
Alone, in an unfamiliar country, on the verge of homelessness, missing the friends I consider family.

Trying to work on my lyric writing ability, hope to come back to this and expand on it one day.
Sand Feb 16
Being genuine
Caused me more pain
Keep smiling could've helped
Knowing to keep my distance would've helped
Maturing faster might've helped
Should I blame my depression?
Should I blame the little professional help I get?
Should I keep throwing blame?
Or just give up and go to sleep
My neglected duties lie in a heap on the floor, my head hurts as I stare down at them. So many.
And time? Fleeting.
I receive no sympathy from time. I evoke no empathy from my own conscience, nor fantasy.
All the unspoken words I’ve neglected to voice lie gentle on the nightstand.
And I sleep sound.
Isaac Ward Feb 1
The burn behind tired eyes,
The screen, awash with light,
The herd and their pretty lies,
That's what keeps me up at night.

Coffee, eight sugars, no cream,
Too loud, our star is bright,
It is surely too late to dream,
That's what keeps me up at night.

Work, work, work,
Stop for some soda and a bite,
This society's quirks,
That's what keeps me up at night.

Anxiety, and depression...
Continuing this endless fight,
Punishing myself with exhaustion,
That's what keeps me up at night.
Mongi Jan 10
Sandstorm of Affection

We danced in our spheres
Kept the hope for happiness within
But exhaustion and time came and undressed our realities
Fate became inevitable

With a single blow

We ran into our separate caves
Left the sandstorm to tear down everything that once surrounded us
We survived in our safety pretext
But the sandstorm was all in our element, where it lingered

Throughout our quests for genuine safety
We left little holes
Like those of termites' hills
To peep through as we paid careful attention
To the hope of the storm's immediate resolution
But so sorrily,
The winds were cruelly stronger than our expectations
And the turbulent winds spun violently piercing grains of sand
That greedily and hurtfully clogged our spying termites' holes
And shun us from the only last thing
That the sandstorm in our element had spared
So now we can hope for survival in our isolated darks

Thus, with a single atom of hope left within
Will we ever see each other again?
The cruel wish

Mongi C. Nkabindze
Time, it does everything, from construction to destruction. Reconstruction remains a phenomenon under question
Raziel Jan 9
I am ripping open at the seams, the tears are searing scars down my cheeks,
   One more paper to do, one more sentence to repeat,
Come on just take the leap, write something worth all that is bleak,
   Just need to power through, I was told not to retreat,

My pencil lead breaks again, frantically trying to get more,
   These lines don’t seem to end, is that a reminder for a test tomorrow?
I have problems to mend, and something for my teachers to deplore,
   Just one more email to send, maybe tonight is worth the morning hangover,

We learn about The Declaration of Independence, what about The Declaration of a student's financial dependence,
   And can we talk about the insanity that is the reality of a prison without bars, a prison with a few more smiles with test after test to test the aptitude of whatever is left,
And didn’t you know that the education provided is clouding over our personalities, ask us what we like, and we’ll freeze, we don’t know,
   There wasn’t an answer, there wasn’t a formula, this wasn’t on the SAT, it wasn’t in the textbook, it wasn’t in the notes, what do we do now,

And our words mean nothing, it all means nothing unless its in 12 point Times New Roman,
   Our opinions are pointlessly written out unless it’s all double spaced, it means nothing without a thesis, is pointless without a conclusion,
Our minds are sectioned in tests and notes, our identities are categorized the street smarts and the book geniuses, we are divided by the artsy kids and the jocks, we are divided as men and women,
   We have lost all humanity, all vanity, we have lost sons and daughters, we have all fallen into this insanity,

And these terms are swimming all about my eyes, craniocaudal, dorsaloventral, the digestion of sternal recumbency,
   It’s like these lines are never ending, my eyes are burning, the exhaustion is overwhelming,
How am I to remember something as complicated as this phrase that is screaming nothing but unneeded redundancy,
   But I must come through, I must finish this by exactly one minute before midnight, I feel myself crashing.

1 hour of mathematical curvitory, 2 hours of astronomical insanity,
   3 hours of burning scientific calamity, 4 hours of economic minority,
5 hours of silence and religious responsibilities, 6 hours of starvation without seniority,
   And 7 hours of work that surpases our intelectual and emotional capability,
  
We work and work and we work some more but we really never get to mentally explore,
   Due dates and deadlines, it’s like the quadratic formula and the mitochondria are the only things that are allowed in my mind,
We are trained to move like clockwork, with nothing but mechanical processing and memory stores to our so called searing core,
   These are our soul and self preserving guidelines that are set by the authorities that are supposed to be educationally kind to those who need just a little more time,
Just one more line,
Just 20 more words,
Just get it done, it doesn’t have to be an art of perfection,
After all, we’re only being timed on completion and temporary retention..
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