so tired…

the heaviness of slumber
settles on me like a straight jacket –
no point resisting…

was it a poisoned apple
that struck me so –
or is this exhaustion

of what….
a soul aspiring to flight
weighted down by sensitivity…

an ego tied to ideals
no more salient than balloons
whose once inflated bodies
now pollute the landscape…

I am withered…


breath shallow…

pulse irregular…

cursing the elusiveness of sleep…

suspended in a tortuous limbo,
mocked by vitality,
scorned by ambition,
loathed by the hale…

is there purpose
to this perpetual cycle…
a message
carved within the walls
of this fleshy tomb…
cryptic whispers
buried deep beneath
the hardening layers of fog?

no strength here
to decipher riddles…
encumbered by lassitude,
like an iron blanket
smothering desire…

even weeds will push
through concrete barriers
follow the sun’s rays
to find life…

why then can’t I…

…so tired….

(Tired originally appeared 04/17.  I submit it here again for Daily Addictions prompt mock.)

Posted by

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

17 thoughts on “Tired

    1. Thanks, Heide. When someone says they have fatigue from chronic illness, it is much more than the normal “I’ve had a full day” exhaustion. Glad I could convey it effectively.


  1. You have captured that special fatigue I once wrote about in relation to cancer and treatment. You have described it so eloquently I can feel the weight descending. I really like the image of the weeds (and sometimes flowers) pushing through cement. I have often stopped in wonder beside those forces of nature when I see them. With all you’ve done since 2017, you must be feeling somewhat a kin to them. I wish you continued resilience…

    Liked by 1 person

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