Three o’clock and I’m just now gathering
my dirty laundry together in a basket,
literally the only thing that needs doing today
yet half the day has already slipped by
and I barely have my contacts in.

Of course, after gathering the laundry,
I then have to collect the quarters.
I have to carry the awkward basket to the car,
to the laundromat, through an hour of waiting,
then back home to fold and put away the clothes.

And while the basket is heavy, uncomfortable to carry,
so are all those unanswered text messages
swimming around in my brain, the most of which
could be answered at the laundromat or in the hours before
when laying in unmotivated restlessness in bed.

But that requires talking to people, and I don’t want
to open the door to the rigmarole
of pretending I’m okay while no one is listening.
Those same friends always share social media posts saying
days like this are perfectly fine, so what’s another month?

Nothing changes, but not from a lack of desire to improve.
It just feels like nothing I do makes a difference,
it’s hard to keep moving when no one’s walking beside you,
It gets tougher to try when the problems always come back
to reclaim the progress that was made yesterday.

Yet still I choose to put on that happy face and smile
for the people like me living out days in this state
and for the man still living under my mountainous misfortune.
Someday I’ll find the art and the meaning to dig him out
but as for today, I really just want some clean clothes.