The fatigue grips me like a tentacled monster
drags me under the pillows and covers and shade of darkness
no matter how often I try to come up for air.

My eyes close like old oak doors -
too heavy to be popped open -
the hinges worn from years of rust and tears.

If I hide in the covers, maybe the world can't get me.
It's so warm and cozy in the nest of the bed.
How am I supposed to crawl out?

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