I speak in-between words,
a hidden code only I can
crack, and when I say that
I am tired, I mean that I
am collapsing, I mean that
I’m tired, but I won’t dare sleep,
can’t dare to sleep and dream a
more exaggerated version of the
world I have encapsulated myself in.

When I say I have encapsulated
myself into a world I mean I have
forged walls out of plastic,
walls that I run to,
let them suffocate me,
let them tell me sweet lies that I
only half believe because if I didn’t
I would go crazy.

When I say I’m going crazy it means
my brain is banging against my skull,
it means that I broke a glass for my own
cathartic satisfaction,
it means that the world feels fuzzy
like a raindrop ridden windshield or coffee
stained books or sleepy text messages
with mismatched letters.

When I say I am tired,
I mean that I feel like an elderly
person ought to, we share the same
ache in our bones, the same thrills
that aren’t thrills anymore.
When I say I am tired,
I mean the life in me is
wilting into itself
slowly.