Aequus

Every morning now is longer than the last, a triumph of the hemisphere. I rise just before dawn, sit in the dim silence and try to see what words appear in the margins of my consciousness. 

Not many, it turns out. 

Mondays are always strange in their currents, the push and pull of clean slates and chasing storm clouds, there's a weight in my gut where my hope used to be, I no longer know how to keep the demons at bay. The ends aren't meeting where they demand to, and I don't know how to make them. 

Rifle through written words, surely the secret must be written here somewhere, if only you know what you are looking for, if only you can decode the cipher. Look at your own streams, see if you can make out the pattern. The only lifeline that ever held was words, you know this but cannot remember how, turn them over in your hands, try to see if they are made of money. 

Try to see if you can eat your words. 

Replace the weight in your gut
with surrender.