fatigue washes over me
like a deadly dirty sin
engulfing me embodying me
takes its fill of me in
my vision how it blurs
swaying leaning I reach forth
unintentionally, of course
im falling im falling in a manner
completely unacceptable
breaking me
there’s no such thing as monotony
I fall asleep in place
sitting up
apparent hours minutes seconds seem to race
i’m broken yet oddly assured that I’ll at least
succeed at gaining some rest
the writing that ordinarily takes ten minutes to pen
fifteen minutes left until the almost-full hour
disjointed thoughts and messages jotted
now to entertain.
I will not cry I will not moan
victim mentality is not in my being known
I do not know why I am suffering this way
though, three to four hours a night
each rest is broken like shattered pavement
beneath my bare toes
concentration is a joke
my eyes my mind travels
traverse their own wanderlust
and walking ahead upon a path
noticing men and women canoodling
at half-mast
I cannot ascertain fully what is occurring
inside my brain
though I suspect, ascertain, hypomanic is
the state.
shall we lead into mania,
I wonder to myself,
this polar extreme highlighted by my fervent actions
frantically creating unto myself
but there comes a point where I must
Slow. It. Down.
I do not know I do not know
how to escape this vicious cycle
or, am I meant to simply deal with it
on my own?
the moral support which
could be provided
is severely unacceptable
for some assessments are rubbish
wanting me to be under a yowling’s affair
instead:
tik tok tik tok laissez-faire
rare visitations to my foreign bed.
Original artwork by myself.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
(10/12/21)
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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