As I was said on the @Isleofwrite, I wanted to comment on this, but fell asleep. Not from reading this, from general exhaustion. :)

I’ve a bit more energy, so I’ll blabber on before I head out for my run.

But having read your ‘Breath’ piece, I was interested in reading another, so I’m glad it sounds like you’re back on the poetic steemit trail. You’re now on my must-reads poets on steemit now besides Johngeddes. Very different experiences. So you’ll just have to put up with my long-winded commentary from the warpy lazy brain of mine when the mood strikes me.

To my untrained eye, I’m not sure what type of poetry this is, but it draws you in as you try to guess what the poet means. Yes, I know you told us in the title of this post and the poem, but it was still a guessing game. The first read, I think apathy, love, creativity and how all those things are ever present fighting each other. But after a few more reads, I started to think about hallucinations. A quick google—because google is an extension to my brain—and that state between sleep and waking is hypnagogia.

What I found fascinating was how I then could twist every word in your poem to reflect exactly what I get in this hypnagogia state, if that’s what it is I experience. It’s a terrifying voice, the hallucinations feel mocking and cold, there’s a dizzying spinning I can’t sidestep, it catches me, but I don’t want to collapse. Collapsing is bad...I just want to wake up. It took me many years to finally understand why I’d get into these states. My husband finally noticed the trend. It’s not weariness of any kind, it was exhaustion. So my twisted version of your poem would be retitled: ‘Exhaustion’ or whatever the Latin equivalent is.

The places where good poetry leads you... Thank you for sharing this though-provoking piece.

Edited to add: Adored the art!