When mother says that 'you look tired'

Mother says
‘You look so tired’
And she wouldn’t be wrong.
You see,
I spent the whole damned night
puke-dizzy on the roundabout.

It’s crumbling,
I think the stones ate my wheels-
I heard them hissing,
and I could understand
the way they felt.
The whine jittered through me
glinting eagle,
sequinned wings whipping my throat
to a ravaged mine-shaft,
prying out my spewing mouth
as if burning its bonds.
The scream was almost my own.

My knuckles were pearls on the wheel-
I had no sway,
just a sopping sea of sweat
to slip control slyly far away.

My car ran out of gas,
of course.
So with the sky leaking orange ichor
and the befuddled workers
woozily filing out for the day,
I stumbled through the boggy fields,
through the graveyard,
sprinkled with stained smack needles
that hold a hundred sadder stories,
back to the Antarctic creases of my bed,
my shaded blue den,
and lay there,
dazed.

So yes,
I am ‘so tired.’