A Sad World

2026 — receipt

Morning logs in.Balance due.

Rent. Heat. Food. Attention.

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The war doesn’t end—it refreshes. You feel it in bread, in fuel, in the quiet rise of everything.

The cost-of-living climbs. The cost of dying waits—coffin, fees, a final invoice.

You say I’m fine like a payment plan.

Inside: a smaller war. No ceasefire.

And still—you breathe, you stay.

Because sometimes a laugh slips through, light holds for a second—

unbilled.

Enough for one more day.

Ian Kydd Miller 2026