I am too tired to write well enough
to tell you,
but I will try;
I’ll tell you about the sensation
of being heavy, in your eyes,
and in your neck,
look, I can hardly even hold
my self up to write.
And my eyes are closing.
Forgive the error written in passing
friend of poetry,
the sensation of forgetting and
Wandering back again, of
feelings all too many and too much
that blend together in my
tiredness.