My limbs become trees. 

You call that an abyss? I got voids within voids.

Drown myself in my work, I guess. Have I been? Maybe. I've certainly been more productive. Dogged determinism. (Yes, I mean determinism.)

The grief is vast, but I appear to be floating on it this time.

I woke up this morning at 6 am, a full hour before I needed to be awake. Again, if I remember correctly. Perhaps I'm internalizing some sort of mangled daylight savings time. Darkness saving time. 

There is much to do, I feel. House stuff, I think. Draining the hot water heater. That's a thing people do. Or cleaning the lint hose for the clothes dryer. That's important because it could catch fire when drying out piles of oily rags and old newspapers.

Wayward hounds bound beyond.