famished

it's a strange kind of joy

to be hungry

beyond

hunger, famished.

starving

for food.

for drink.

to long for a meal

of nearly anything.

to taste it all

as you slowly bite

down, and swallow.

and the same goes

for fatigue.

what joy there is in

finding

a bed at the end of a long

day, a long week.

falling into the feathers

with a sigh,

barely finding your lips 

to say good night.