4 Months

4 months.
Feeling Abject.
Self-Imposed to Slave Wages.
Campo de Books.
But wasn't that all I could get.
3 Interviews down.
Small Bites.
The Feel Fades.
Comes Crashing.
For a Ray.
A warm light at dawn.
Come Camping.
'cide no.
Spend the days reordering the world.
Topless.
Taxes.
To myself.
Heaps of trash,
Items off the list everyday.
And more tomorrow.
My world none too short of projects.
Keep them coming,
Though progresses slow.
Time follows tardy,
find cats,
find a room of art no one sees,
find debt...
And hope for a change.

Tomorrow.