Tired

I’m tired.

I’m so tired.

I’m tired of my knees giving out.

I’m tired of being too short.

I’m tired of being too fat. 

I’m tired of not being able to lift more weights.

I’m tired of my migraines.

I’m tired of not being able to jog.

I’m tired that I don’t read more.

I’m tired or rejected applications.

I’m tired of no press.

I’m tired of no exhibitions.

I’m tired of not being a better artist.

I’m tired of not being a better designer.

I’m tired of losing my breath.

I’m tired of mentioning my cock too much in my wiring.

I’m tired of this poem.

I’m tired of washing dishes.

I’m tired of attempting to catch up on email.

I’m tired of living.

I’m exhausted.

I’m tired of the routine.

I’m tired of making art.

I’m tired of doing design.

I’m tired of forward.

I’m tired of reflecting.

I’m tired of cardboard boxes.

© 2025 David Greg Harth

25.08.28.16.50.00@NYC