Every morning
I wake up,
Against my will.

This too shall pass
Into
Another catastrophe,
And,
It doesn't give me solace
Anymore.

All these antediluvian
Anecdotal adages,
Bring me back,
To a false life,
And you.

Each little in joke,
Every single offence
I had to give.

Doesn't break me like it
Used to.

Maybe after
I get some coffee,
Chain-smoke through my free time.

And,
Work.

I'll feel better.