Fatigue Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I am fatigued
My sedentary hands
Are woebegone.

I am weak in faith
In stance
In physique.

I am worn-out
As a maudlin.
I can’t write anything
Except that I
Can’t write anything.

I am angered
The realities are disparaging.
I am flustered by surreal fantasies
And vivid nostalgia.
How do we quit this farce?
Of keeping ourselves
Moored to hostile stations?

I guess I wasn’t lost at all.
I was just never found.