Sometimes there is tiredness,
Like a cloud burst drowning you,
And the feeling seeps in,
Through the pores of your skin,
Deeper, all the way in, in, in,
Until you’re more outside,
Than this fatigue inside.
You’re rolling in a white cloud,
Which way is what,
What did you say?
No wind, no ground,
Just white, white cloud.
This isn’t the ‘should be’
This is the lovely ‘it just is’
Did I sign away my solitude?
Or whore away mind space?
Was there a dotted line I was balanced upon?
That I fell off from at some point during play?