Tired

My eyes are heavy; my brain is tapped.

It’s a struggle to stay awake.

I really need a nap.

 

I’m trying to listen, watch, or read.

But every part of my being would rather be asleep.

 

Nothing is interesting enough to keep me alert.

Every blink threatens to be semi-permanent.

 

The couch is a trap.

The bed means certain defeat.

Resistance is vanity.

Eventually I’ll concede.

 

The hands of slumber are massaging my mind.

The dominion of dreams is beckoning me inside.

 

Yawn.

I’m so tired.

 

Every thought that I start floats off incomplete.

Sleep will conquer and release me to z’s.