Darkest Days

Sleep Walker

Draining is the only word the comes to mind,
Soaked in a wet, cold cloth called fatigue.
I slowly drift across endless, dreary seas,
In a long-lost chase for that precious sleep.

Tired does not even begin to cover it,
That "gravity pulling me in" feeling.
It is, in simplest words, just heavy.
And I am to the point of being bleary.

Many things sit lumbering atop my shoulders.
Many of them have snaking tendrils that,
Wrap around my delicate neck and squeeze.
Imagine the difficulty I go through just to breathe.

Straining muscles threaten to break skin,
And I sit back and watch as my strength,
Amidst my anguished bones, starts to do,
Just what I wished it wouldn't: fall through.

A numbness unknown to most is poisoning.
I can feel it in my bloodstream, circulating.
Like an ocean being polluted by thick, dull oil,
I am polluted with this worn and torn turmoil.

Draining as it may be, my feet have yet to stop,
And life, as tiring as it is, is still worth more.
As weak as my physical body and mind may seem,
I am still here and continue to be; in a dream.