Gorging on the sanctity of exhaustion
“happy” chemicals moving through limbs
tongues, fingers, eyes
free falling from reality
letting cares trespass outside
no longer penned up for close observation
their florescent desertion feels right.
The only way to feel calm
under course skin of palms
is to claim complete exhaustion
and sought after solitude
and understand how cliche it is
to be grateful
for such a damned thing.
