#emotionalfatigue
Features beyond a resting place — a search for hope drawn on my
face. In some way, I’ve lost direction; so wherever the river flows,
that’s where my thoughts are drawn. __Pause__. One, two, three.
I forget what comes next. Even boxed in, life keeps folding me into
new shapes — creases of maybe, edges of almost. My armies of
failures find their formation, ready to march without hesitation.
I keep umbrella terms handy for days like this, when words drizzle
but never really pour. I’m under the weather, I'm just _overthinking,_
awake with my fears —and even open eyes still dream, though it’s
mostly reality forcing them to blink.
It would prove handy to try and start an open-handed conversation
with myself, but my inner voices keep putting me on hold. Engines
rev, motivation hums, but procrastination presses pause; and then
everything idles.
I was meant to write this earlier, but time said: “Rest a little longer.”
And I listened, like I always do —finding comfort just beyond this
resting place.
Nov 8, 2025
Nov 8, 2025 at 12:29 PM UTC
fortnight has ended or two
it wasn't long for me
but I want to miss you
Days ended and i wanted to think about you
days ended when i thought
I'd write about you
evanescently-
for me.
(patiently my ruthless calm
and so-my evicted excitement)
almost as i have forgotten your touch-
those rough hands you had..
i almost freeze holding them-
to steal the texture forever.
what happened to me?
why couldn't i dream of your face?
i thought i would grieve for you
so why...
days ended and i cant remember you
i thought it would hurt me?
but all i feel is spent and spilled
and now i feel so tired
and i cannot write...
but i still want to write for you.
Jul 13, 2025
Jul 13, 2025 at 1:47 PM UTC
Missing names in my letterbox— but mostly yours.
And I have no right to claim it, no reason to expect
your name to arrive again.
I try to write it out— all that it was between us.
A love so bizarre, so hard to define, yet somehow…
_energizing._ But I want to cut the ties my eyes have
to their tiredness— but I’m still oddly entangled
in the thought of falling asleep to the memory of you.
_Tired! Tired!_
But no rest compares to you, or the rest I see.
And maybe—
just maybe— the measure I hold love to now
is too tight, too closed, to give anything new
even a chance.
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 2:48 PM UTC