Daily (song)

Every day starts with a punch in the gut. But you rise and shine anyway. And no one wants a friend who's a gaping wound, so you shake hands and smile. It makes sense.

Every day starts with a kick to the throat, but you swallow it whole because no one wants to work with a choking toad--so you just go. You unknow.

Talking about it isn't going to change anything. And if it follows you in the dark, nobody cares. And even if somebody does, it isn't going to change anything.

And every day the sun rises on the same collection of compromises. And you pay down the interest and it hounds you like a mortgage. And speak--but never the first thing you're thinking--and dream, maybe--but only when your brain stabs itself for forgetting. Or pretending.

Always next to you, a knife's length away, standing at an angle where no one can see, waiting for the sun to drop like a stone so it can follow you in the dark.

So hope you don't gush. Hope you don't give up. Don't choke. Don't crack up. You have a place you can go to where nothing is funny or going to get better. That's something. Suck it up.