moving on

there exists a delicate state of mind between fatigue and energy. it is a place where the imagination roams, yet control is still intact. only during this time can you relinquish worry and contempt.

your eyes droop, your body aches for rest - bliss can found when idleness is embraced. there is a certain serenity to know you are beyond exhaustion yet here you are -  

lights begins to hurt, sounds become muddled. breathings grows shallow. concentration long gone. yet you are here - staring at the screen in hope for an answer.

It is illogical to think. only to spew what the mind deems important.

tired. 

no.

exhausted.

no.

spent.

no...

its -moving on.

sunny.

Eyelids drooping. Mind rabbling. Mouth drying. Lips crackling.  Fatigue is the air you breathe. The ground mocks. The brown dirt stares back at you. Dirty thing. You look up into the clear blue sky. Blue. Beautiful. You reach up, grasp it as your own. Fail. Gravity finally wins, you fall back, no longer able or wanting to stand much longer. Arms-hands extended towards the sky. The ground is too hard. It is too hot. It is too hot to cry. Your throat hurts. Your lips long for the tenderness of water. The soft kiss ice. Surely this is what hell must feel like. You succumb to weakness. Slumbers whisks you away. Your eyes closes. 

You wake up, finding yourself next to him. His blue eyes look back at you. It is the sky. The unattainable sky. No, this is hell.