Psalms

I've got that tired.
That one that stays in your stomach,
it's liquid metal in your lungs.

I've got that tired.
The kind that you can't shake off
with a 2-dollar-coffee and a pen in your hand.

I've got that tired.
And dammit all
if I'm out of cigarettes.

I've got that tired.
That grind your teeth to powder
and plan it out for Monday.

I've got that tired.
With yesterday's makeup set deep
and no hope for a shoe-shine.

I've got that kill-me-dead, laugh until your bones quake, rub rocks in your eyes, and call upon your Gods for mercy - tired.

And I am strait-set for another long haul.