Seventeenth day of the month

It is the seventeenth day of the month.
It is the time when a certain emptiness finds me,
and places doubts in my head
and i will ponder;
if the days ahead will ever be whole again.
The body feels weak,
like the withering stalk
of a neglected daffodil
and the mind licks the wound of exhaustion
from work that reaps so little... ...

it is the seventeenth day of the month ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ... ...I hate paying my rent.