#weariness
This...
The shaking of a reed
The movement of the water
The flicking of a flame.
This...
The crying of a child
The weariness of the labourer
The burning skin from the sun.
This...
The racking pain of guilt
The salty tears of loneliness
The swan song of past glories.
This...
The masks of complacency
The contracts of acceptance
The closing of the mind.
This...
The continuing saga
The words that fill the pages
The lot in life we all share.
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 8:57 AM UTC
In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.
EN UN RINCON
Muy mío, en el silencio,
en una casa blanca pura,
Al borde de una mañana,
con mi alma sosegada.
En el jardín del alma,
entre mariposas,
revoloteando,
susurrando,
poemas,
en mí.
Para mí,
suspiros,
tranquilos,
de ese respirar,
cansado, que sigue,
susurrando poemas,
a pesar de ahogarme,
en esa vida que no es mía.
Mientras espero despegar,
y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.
Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,
donde la paz nunca se acaba,
donde ya no cuesta vivir,
donde ya no me canse,
donde todo es bello,
en las alas de Dios,
en mi lugar,
lejano.
Mientras,
pasa el tiempo,
y yo me asomo aún,
en ese rincón tan hermoso,
de un alma que se cansa de vivir.
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 4:25 AM UTC
This...
The shaking of a reed
The movement of the water
The flickering of a flame.
This...
The crying of a child
The weariness of the labourer
The burning skin from the sun.
This...
The salty tears of guilt
The racking pain of loneliness
The swan song of past glories.
This...
The masks of complacency
The contracts of acceptance
The closing of the mind.
This...
The continuing saga
The words that fill the pages
The lot in life we all share.
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 8:59 AM UTC
i'm restles§ & laZy
& wirəd & tired
& _not_ ⁿ°ⁿuncrayZ
& antiadmired
a little bit manic
& chillaxed as a maniac
i picnic with Panic
& retardədly brainiac
& God as my wittiness
i'm ●ver herə trying
to c○pe with the shittiness
of living while dying
Jul 29, 2024
Jul 29, 2024 at 2:59 AM UTC
It happens with all the holes and wounds: they grow their own face, mend their gaps, heal their rifts — those new skills of yours are but entities that emerge: to grant shelter, to stand guard, replace the old, thicken the crust, weather this human storm — through and through.
But will the skin ever return to its soil? It linger on forevermore. How tight its grip? How hardened its sappy brooks? When will it nourish those delicate roots anew?
These thoughts arise as doubt breaks free. It pours and flows as I gaze down and lower still. Shadows seep and leak as the wheel spins and drills the soul evermore hollow. Anonymous is our tree of life, but it keeps faces in store.
For it happens with all the holes and wounds: they bleed, they mend, they heal — and what don't they do as I stand here, as I bend, as I kneel — as I carve these seats in shapes of departure. Those skills thicken under my feet like growling tremors.
My past was but a dream — and I'm ready to slide like a crumbling leaf. My weariness is universal. My knowledge heavy. There cannot be a conclusion. I am growing thin.
Let me feed those roots anew.
Through and through.
Dec 23, 2023
Dec 23, 2023 at 2:30 PM UTC
Dark of night surrounds me, pillow below my head.
How long the many hours since I tumbled onto my bed?
Mind so filled with thought that clearly has me stressed.
Racing, scattered thought that just wont let me rest.
Blanket that feels loose and shifts to feel oh so tight,
and so it sets the pattern for this never ending night.
I know that I must sleep before the rise again of the sun,
in a world that cant relent from insistence things must be done.
My body urgent in its craving to be silent and be still,
but my mind just wont give in possessing the stronger will.
A discomfort on my left side, so I roll again to my right.
Countless repetition through the hours of a god forsaken night.
Nothing that I do brings a sense my mind is nearing calm,
I must try to get some sleep before clock sounds its alarm.
So the hours go, too many hours surely for just one night,
but too late now to rest as window reveals dawns early light.
Dec 8, 2021
Dec 8, 2021 at 6:17 PM UTC
clarity is costly
and people seem to pay
tending to their mind
they lose it!
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 5:14 PM UTC
I have one friend.
He is the only one who listens when I speak.
Even he grows tired sometimes.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 1:56 PM UTC
With that
A weariness crept up close upon me
Without a word or caustic look
More silent than a shadow stalks
More lonely than an abandoned Rook
It jumped and I fell fast asleep
Surely as weariness, consciousness, and companionship exist
I feel, as if only one of these can be
Whence awake
Jan 4, 2020
Jan 4, 2020 at 4:54 PM UTC
Take a seat when you're tired,
Wipe thy face till your tears dry.
I just hate seeing you cry.
Listen to me as I sing a lullaby,
And to your concerns say goodbye.
Your weariness takes a toll on me
So do your best and to your sorrows, breakfree
Sleep now, my love, for our tomorrow
Be jovial and leave your sorrow.
Don't let my heartaches get into you
'Cause I'll be fine on a Sunday moon
And who knows, we might see a baboon.
But, in case we see a doe,
Please, don't say **
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 11:46 PM UTC
i’ve grown weary
of this story
growing
weary
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name
and I can’t remember why I came
I’m fearful for the leaving
can’t seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day
and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face
sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again
and again
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 10:35 AM UTC
I am tired;
As a man on a journey
Whose only home is carried on his back,
As a poet who has nothing
But an empty mind and a page that is blank,
As a child born into poverty
With no future and no going back.
It grips me, weighing me
Like a puppy in a sack,
The dark river beckons
Ready to devour,
The cold grip of death
From a breath,
I cannot quite catch.
I am tired
That no rest can cure,
No sleep can quench
No meal can nourish,
No vista uplift,
Tired of existence
To the core of my being.
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 11:26 AM UTC
A moment passed, as it always seems to
With guilt washing over me like the shore,
Passed without me doing what I need to,
Bound in chains of shame I failed once more.
For what was I bequeathed this gift of time
If not to use passing moments for praise?
Weary, I let passivity be my crime.
These wasted moments lead to wasted days.
The morning light is heavy with regret,
No slumber enough for this restless soul.
I laid down with my dreams serene, and yet,
Overnight my guilt turned soul black as coal.
Saying “I love you” ere I close my eyes,
Means more to me than I could realize.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
My pillow warm with light dampness
Rejects my head with suddenness,
Last night welcoming in comfort,
At dawn sends me away in hurt.
How shall I start this weary day?
What do faint flickers of dreams say?
Last night I slunk into blackness,
The dawn hurls me into madness.
The frightened embrace of a ghost,
All I have of my lonely host.
Last night I put the light to sleep,
At dawn held by darkness I keep.
Woke to disjointed consciousness,
And left behind my peacefulness,
Last night I plotted my escape.
The dawn of life has taken shape.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
Why do people hear my mumbles... but never my full sentences?
Why am I never good enough for anyone or anything?
I try so hard... so hard that it hurts sometimes...
Well... most times actually.
All I ever do is try, nothing more nor less.
It's not like I'm capable of doing it anyways...
Well... I am capable... I just haven't gathered myself to commit to anything just yet.
Why is it so hard to be accepted in this world?
One day, I won't have to try anymore. I won't even have to worry about it...
Until then... I just hope to forget what "love" should be...
And believe the reality of it.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
Bygones will be Bygones
and their baggage shall beg
to plow again.
Between the gains and confines
of the wrestled soul,
resinous,
behind his silver buttons
and navy knitted nylon
beneath it grey,
cunningly,
breathes the pain
of his flourishing.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
~
Sleepy, rest your head
Shh, don't regret
All that you met
~
Along a rocky road
I know right now there's a lump in your throat
a sea full of tears, you stuck on a boat
~
This boat will keep you safe, I promise
Close your tired eyes, there's nothing to miss
the arms to hold you were never supposed to be his
~
Don't worry now, sleep off your yesterdays
Lie silently in comfort and dream of simpler ways
Dream of softness and love that stays
~
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 1:10 AM UTC
i am tired
of waking up
in the middle of the night
at the sound of
my skin tearing itself apart,
i can no longer remove
the stamp of
your lips and hands
off me;
my sides splitting open
so my scars ensconced
deep beneath the surface
can tell the story
of how i fell for you.
i am tired
of staying up
with nothing but
the company of the moon,
awaiting for its eclipse,
blinking away
fragments of what we had —
filled to the brim
with adoration —
although fleeting.
memories of
how you held me —
only distant.
again,
the clock chimed
unforgivingly,
reminding me
of late night drive throughs
around the crevices
of my wreckage of thoughts —
spilled and separated;
full of you,
only you.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
I give up the crown I've been wearing
Shifting my chin up high though it's a bit light
Spreading my hands wide just to cover sight
I rather be a tree rather than a Queen tonight
Swaying my wings through the wind quietly
Dancing with the darkness in the pale moonlight
I picture myself swimming across the sea
Got full of my own tears as a company
Serving those eyes a show as you can see
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 9:07 PM UTC
in the cool room
desks, white light
my head slowly nods
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
the film ends--
within
too hot for tears
outside, the trees
drink deep
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
pen scratching
on, eyes strain--
yet another blank page
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
I am weary but I cannot cease my toil
I have wasted enough time on frivolous pursuits
Yet they are my only respite from the world placed upon my shoulders
The dark softness of the night sky beckons me away from my work and wakefulness
But I cannot cease!
I cannot rest, no matter the personal cost! For the consequence of my failing shall be a much higher toll!
My future in turmoil
My family flummoxed
The joy of my life leeched away by ghoulish specters I cannot fight off, only bow before
And I want it all to end--yet I wish to live my dreams and fulfill my hopes!
Woe be to the laborer who serves the demands of those they love!
No rest seems unselfish, no indulgence is guiltless, the self is stripped away to become a slave of the labors of love!
O sleepless rest! O restless sleep!
How I long for the simpler days of childhood!
How I long for the sweet sleep of the innocent, to which I can never return!
Woe be to the weary soul!
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
Don't worry, there is a way out.
Don't worry, God already knows.
Don't worry, we will find the answers.
Don't worry, daylight will come.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 7:19 AM UTC