Tiredness, exhaustion, pure fatigue
Call it what you may
Consuming waking moments
Where night spins through the day
Where lids are weighted heavy
And matchsticks fail to prop
Those eyes open save sound of sleep
With dreams and rest full stop
Consumed in a mist of fatigue
Like a blanket
A fog; a miasma
That engulfs
Overwhelms
Almost suffocates
With weighty heaviness
Lethargy and stupor
Until finally sleep arrives
And slumber takes control
To renovate
Revive; invigorate
In readiness for another day
English: Bogue Sound fog and sunset. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
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