Can’t help but get a little excited each time I close my eyes. Has always been this way, always. Tomorrow has forever felt to me like a lazy attempt by a great hand to buff the slate clean; yesterday’s residue is visible if I squint but largely, new dew has settled on the charred grasses and the seething world is thankful it wasn’t lost sometime in the night. Doesn’t each new day feel like some kind of diet forgiveness? It might have less carbs or trans fat than the real thing, and maybe it’s a hair blander, but still: it’s forgiveness, and off with you to dance through the day. I remember perpetrating awful things during my days and thinking as I was acting: tomorrow, this will be delible, a memory, or that some kind of tide washes in during sleep and as it washes out, yesterday’s constructions awake weakened, for better or worse. If you’ve been a bad person, this gives you comfort. If you’ve toiled nobly at some brand of nobleness, this fading might worry you and cause you to work hard to maintain a ghost. For what?