So F’n Tired

I haven’t washed my hair or even just taken a shower in well over a week.

I’m exhausted, and the thought of making my bed nice and clean enough to welcome me on top of taking a shower to be clean enough to not sully it is … too much. I’m crying with fatigue. Can’t concentrate to focus on the next thing. So so so fucking tired.

Shedding my long steely silvery hairs everywhere, wrapping around me. Little ant and spider-victim and potato-bug carcasses. I can’t clean all this up. I am filthy and weak.

I put a paper bag in the dusty up-high tiny window across from my loft-bed to shield me. It fell down, so I climbed onto my desk again and stuffed it in even tighter, unfolded, the long way, to block out even more light.

THE MOON IS NOW DARK.

I dream of taking the waning >>> dark moon days OFF to just lay fallow and sick and tired. I always seem to be extra EXTRA tired at this time of the month, when the moon is at its shrinking darkest.

Maybe next month. A blue room … a sickbed … my whole body slathered with CBD oil. PLEASE.