end of tether

[fledgist]

slide through the day without making waves
exhaust the possibilities of rest and sleep
let the moments of sheer exhaustion keep
you from contemplating the fate of slaves
the tasks before you this day yawn like graves
odorous like them yet by no means deep
the slimy tentacles of dullness seem to creep
towards you bearing massive knotty staves
in dreams the worst things seem to crash
like ocean waves upon a sleeping beach
on your befuddled and defenceless head
reverberating with the echoes of the smash
powerless now either to learn or teach
but sore and filled with overwhelming dread