Superhuman

I am in need of rest.
This wrecks me.

Instead of traveling
one consigns to
unraveling within
the safety of their walls.
I don't know how to rest.
A day to yourself 
works when you ascertain
what yourself needs,
whether it be silence,

a spliff, or an even split
between debauchery
and clean linens.
This reluctance
to pump gas, to relax.
Admitting not knowing
yourself, the self
that begs for a shift
of direction, resolves
nothing. I hear
a voice. Whether
it's my own
I am terrified
to know.