Oh good - Aubade

I wake again, the sky still ash Mostly soft, not quite the weight of lead seen at five a.m; that god awful flash of knowing there is nothing when dead Here inside a room, trying to recall if sleep or darkness shapes it all Whiskey breath eats away my face Oh good! Aubade… finally shows a trace The afterlife sleeps in, it always does Woken up in the usual way Another drink, a top-up buzz Lifts my spirits, just above dismay I fumble around with unopened post Get dressed, eat flakes, feeling like toast Hope and despair make a meagre pact: That life bears fruit, and breakfast lacked I breathe, then sniff, try steady a hand light a smoke, or slap on a patch Gesture defiance, attempt to stand brave it out past the hallway latch Go search, or not, for what comes after opt in, opt out, call on the pastor Who's high as a kite on altar wine, “There's nothing” he sobs, “or do you bring a sign?” His eyes light up, as I offer him a line And you know! that day turned out just fine.