Fatigue.

I swim like a fat whale that has swallowed 
a sea’s worth of custard.
I must remember to not wash my teeth with spinach
because it isn’t toothpaste. Sometimes,
I cavort with rattlesnakes
and bring forth mud until the laughing goats fall over.
I am feeling under the weather.
Blue is the sky that greens my blues.
Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tee.
I need to write,
to eat,
and then to sleep,
perchance to dream.
This is the way of the world,
my world.