Poem: Payday

Woke up deeply sad about Her,
almost crying,
then remembered it was Payday;
the one day a month I'm rich.
Bum-rich.
It didn't really change my feelings.

Early morning, sun just rising.
Me, deciding weither to cry,
to go back to sleep,
or to get up and start my day.
Deciding to cry, no tears come.
Hiding my head under the top
of my sleeping bag,
no sleep same.
Windering again about crying
and if it was good for me
or just self-perpetuating
dis-ease.

I get up to start my Payday
in foul spirits.

Walking by the seaside,
first thing in the grey morning,
is a hard place to stay
in a foul mood.
Truly beautiful,
my sadness seems petty and small
in comparrison to the Ocean,
who has seen so much.
So much death,
so much birth,
and here's little 'ol me;
Sleeping in the same spot
that countless
Ohlohnes Natives
also slept.

She's using me, I know,
though she may not.
He's done using me, I know,
though he may not.

How can my life change?
Withuot outside intervention?