A discourse

The pressure of tomorrow is piling on

With the passing of the seconds

the desire to make it special

grows strong yet is resisted

by the me that is now

nothing can match the anticipation of the day

yet the day is as ordinary as any sunday

with the same sun and the same sky

with the same air and the same drive

just a day to factor the ringing of the bones

bones that would vanish and wont see the moon

yet I have to live through tomorrow 

for the marking to have happen

and so tomorrow promises what it always does

and tomorrow promises to be what it always is

just a day failing in its expectations

And yet I’ll maybe get the gloom that mirrors my day

A gloom that saps the sun
and gives the air a misty look
a gloom that i like above any other day

And maybe so I will eventually like the day 

And that’s enough for it to be so for today.