As much as my heart wants and needs me to find a creative release from all of the particulars that have led to minor external explosions triggering varying levels of internal combustion, the second law of thermodynamics is overtaking my synapses and eyelids.

Sleepily, I ponder the beauty in my wonderment for life
and the tragedy of my disdain that works against it.
I struggle absently far away from my reflective truth.
Indestructible core essentials caution deterioration beyond
definable parameters of infinite existence.

The first law, although minutely flawed, prevents me from believing energy and matter can be created out of nothing nor can it be erased from being entirely. My desires and the physical abilities to manifest them into reality must endure somewhere within the nucleic acid of each and every cell of my body. My only job becomes to avoid absolute zero.

The weight of my head tips the balance backwards in time,
trapping future possibilities past present hydration.
A tapestry of twinges chaotically fire out of conjunction
with one another spurning equilibrium’s natural state.
Tissues ad infinitum chant in unison for a truce.

All together now, if a = b (where a is the constant for “over-worked” and b is “brought on by myself”), b = c (where c “gives way to exhaustion”); therefore, a woman who is understandably spent deserves equal apportionment towards relaxation and sleep.

Make sense?

Translation from random verbosity to English: I am freakin’ tired.