Tired.

I'm tired now.
Not anything else, not angry or depressed or impatient.
Just tired.
My body doesn't cry out for rest,
But it's a deep heaviness in every bone and muscle.
My mind is not throwing in the towel temporarily,
And deserting me for sleep,
But it processes things slowly,
Taking the longest time over the thought of its own tiredness.
A long, light, greyish feeling is spread all over my brain.
Like old cotton padding, slowing everything down.
All the feelings of the day have gone.
That part of me is empty, but it doesn't feel like a gaping hole.
I just feel lighter.
I've left even the day behind.
A long slow weariness.
An enfolding by rest and the comfortable position.
Yawn.
There I go.