Refuel Me

The adrenaline has settled
and without
a tangible form of hope
what was left
has drained
needing
to be refuelled.

Where has it gone?

That motivation
to create
and care
and move.

I'm destined
to live out my days
bundled
in childhood blankets,
replaying the same games,
watching the same shows.

Over and over,
dying to see myself
in the credits.

Instead,
I'm just lying here,
as my body rots
whilst my mind lives inside.

It plays out fantasies
that I just don't have
the energy for.

I need fuel.
I need adrenaline.
But I can't handle either.

Any more

and I might just burn out

for good