I'M Too Tired To Write This Poem

I'm too tired to write this poem with meaningless words and clauses. Showy, proper diction feigned through years of misuse I am too tired to think up the crypt - some long standing metaphor - with its stained-glass transparency?/obscurity?/opacity? I am too hot in this room to describe the way the heat takes me back to the years I never spent in Georgia I am too itchy from bug bites to liken my skin to a rug ; too swollen with pride to let a facetious poem like this out of its shell. Out where it can breathe and be real. ; I am too scared to say what I really mean - and too callow to see a discrepancy