I Tried Yesterday

Sitting at the edge of my garage
looking out upon what I do every morning
The dry air carried an underlying sense of futility
that was especially strong today,
too strong to ignore
Rubbing my hands on my dirty sweatpants
The feeling couldn't help but permeate into me
I think I smelt my dogs feces on my shoe
but It might have just been me
I reach into my pocket and check my phone.
there are no new messages.
I go back to sleep.
Maybe I'll try tommorow.





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