I’m dreaming of the weekend,

Wondering if I’ll get to sleep in,

or do a thousand things instead.

My soul is a lead balloon

dragging me down,

in to the still channels

Where the fish float by

Examining me with their large,

unbelieving eyes.

Confused to see the surface dweller

Within their midst.

I shake my head,

denial makes it hurt

as I search my new underwater home.

The water presses down

and I join it.

Who can fight the tides?

Not you,

No I