Exhaustion

I am tired,

not for a lack of rest --

no, I slept quite well last night,

and I've had my tea.

It's something deeper, something

inherently present, in the

fibers of my skin,

in my tendons, in my eyes.

I am exhausted,

fatigued by life,

by the noise and the silence,

the people, and

the empty rooms,

the light and dark;

by hope and

despair.

So worn down by the world

that nothing in it can

refresh my mind from the

constant buzzing.

I am tired, and there are not

enough hours in the night

for the type of rest I need.