Exhaustion

I lay within the clenched palm of exhaustion, of a week within too much occurred for my bodybrain to process. I'm comforted with deep, undressing sleep, a body without the energy to move more than a few inches spaced hours apart.
Thin rivulets of salty water spill from the corners of my eyes without reason known.
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I wonder if I will ever know the freedom of laughter.
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I long for one person to know me, to love me, to care. And I don't know if such a demented longing will ever come true.
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I feel great comfort within many blankets, soft pillows and a sturdy couch that has my back.
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I pray that few will truly understand these deep wells of sorrow within which I tread.
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I feel the sadness of loss, of physical abuses upon my person's.
I feel a heart that has been viciously, aggressively broken.
I feel the struggling of my spirit, as it has fought most days, to continue without a solitary external reason to do so.
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I'm dwelling in the midspace between the external reality and the internal world of caring chaos and peace's unrest.
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I am the static seeking
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I do not want what I cannot have and I have no idea what I am deserving or entitled to.
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There is nothing but me, existing in a body of submerged and surfacing memories that want to breathe and hurt me and heal me as they hit the harsh, cold, icy surface.
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I want someone, everyone and no one to fully grasp my tenuous, painful bead of a life.
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Heavy, exhausted sleep is a blessing bliss as I seek to recover from the bubbling memories, the painful body remembrances and coming to terms with how broken I've become aware of, that is.
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You will find me embedded within silence, rivers waters and far removed from any traffic.
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Night has been the only one to fully embrace all that I am and hold me near and dear.