Routinely

You wake up,

In that same fetid space,

In dirty sheets you keep promising yourself,

That you'd change, after you cleaned up,

And before your protein shake, and jog,

You would get up, fix these things,

So sure that it would take care of everything,

And you'd be loved again, feel good all over,

After two or three times, you realize,

That the drive thru breakfast was better,

And no one likes to jog anyway,

And that those feelings of love,

Aren't coming back,

The sheets never get changed.