Ode to Exhaustion

The simplistic average exhaustion is escaping despite my will
I wander between worlds, whispering my every thought
I ponder my becoming, hear a voice and wait until
The pain that is my lower back, weakening though hath fought

Breathing normally, although on average it is terribly slow
I lethargically convert my body back to its correct acid levels
Tails of sorrow exhorted from my body, to whom will show
The freedom of hard labor, for once, in my greatness, you revel

Rebellious mud slop adhering to the side of my boot
The muscles in my back are whining for some relief
I know for once the pile of effort was not for Zoot
But perhaps it was, but that depends on your belief

Canisters trickle down the wicker desk top, but for
Only one sip can cure your pain without lamentingly
That same pile, begging, pleading, for what? no more
We drag on stacking, with effort insanely relentlessly