I sit and wait for some sort of miracle.
But nothing ever comes.

And, I've gotten used to being alone.
Passing the time between here and.
Eternity.
Motionless.
Agape at an absurd universe that taunts me.
With lies of success.

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is always fixed in my mind as some antediluvian.
Memory I don't have.
Tomorrow.
Where I'll fix what's wrong with me.
Do the things I talk about.

But, not today.
Never today.
Today is for the nostalgia of coulda done better.