You have no idea, really
how tired I am

not even my bed looks inviting
holding the promise
that I’ll have to wake up
that there will be another day
and after that
another more
that even if the earth stopped rotating
if the sun died out
time would still move
endlessly on

the passage of time
god, I’m tired of dealing
with you
I’m tired of pushing forward
having no other choice but to act
act, act, act
do, do, do
I decide everything
and I’m tired of it
of having only the choice of moving on
or forfeiting – and even then, I’d be doing something

do you not see
how much of a weight I carry?
how the entire future is what I push in front of me
dragging the past behind me like some
dying relative
a box of stones
and a memory is a thousand pounds
and I get new ones every second

you cannot fathom, I promise
how tired I am
it’s very kind of you to ask
to carry some of my load,
to push for a little, but even that is a
decision, and you still have to carry
your own shit
through this pool of concrete.