bloodshot

My body

drowning in a

hoodie and sweatpants

knowing it won't

and can't

muster the energy

to get up.

Not that I

need to.

It's the middle

of the night.

But it seems

that for quite

a while now

I haven't wanted

to get up

haven't wanted

to do anything.

Anything.

My voice has

cried out the words

"I can't" too many

times to count.

My eyes

have released rivers

miles long.

Tears drying on

my face, leaving me

with lasting marks

and red eyes.

Brain's turned

to mush, to misery,

to many things

in many different forms,

all of which

I am unable

to differentiate.

Hurt, frustrated,

pained, sad,

tired, lost,

confused, angry.

And all these

emotions

were blended

into a bitter,

horrific, drink

that my mind

was force fed,

and now it

must tolerate

the consequences.

Can't, won't, too tired.

Not good enough,

never will be,

I need more training.

Not ready, don't want to, I can't.

I can't.

I'm going to go to bed now.

Feels like

one of the only things

I can do.