Sublimate

I wake early, too early, the hours of sleep under my belt wildly inadequate, this will backfire I have time to think before resigning to leaving the bed. There’s a slight breeze along the river, a break from the heatwave, you know it won’t last and take deep breaths into the morning waves. Week and a half until departure. Week and a half until a return to a world from before everything fell apart. I take the pill. The voice on the radio speaks of ailing parents, my landlord writes to say his mother passed. “She was one hell of a woman,” he says, and I tell him that’s the best legacy one could hope for. 

Life is short. You know better than to waste it on other money’s deadlines. The fog clears again. 

You get back up.