I wither like a daylily in my fatigue;
as tiny crystal tears dampen my perpetually wincing countenance.
I feel a cold presence pierce into the crook of my arm; and I allow the welcome intruder to slide silently, painlessly under my translucent skin,
and the gentle blackness to begin to knock softly against my bones while I am overcome by a sweet sensation of dreamlike stillness.
Ribbons of darkness weave around each muscle; forming a second skin soft as velvet that swaddles me like its very own child.
I ache; tremors wrack my body
and I feel my eyes fall back into the empty recesses of my skull; a post-apocalyptic wasteland where nerve endings lie dormant, and I become unaware of my own existence.
And I slip quietly from consciousness and into a blurry opiate utopia.