exhaustion

I am tired, not for lack of rest - no, I slept quite well last night, and I've had my coffee.

it's something deeper, something inherently present, in the fibres 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, light and dark; 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.