tomorrow

Guess I didn’t quite ask myself the obvious, but why is this an important thing to have written about? And for once, you know, I guess I could answer that. Because there’s this feeling of being too much in a dream that one forgets to be real? No it’s not an ‘Inception’ thing, I’m not one for it, but it’s just… everything happens in a dream, everything’s within reach that the fight of reality almost turns absurd and postponing becomes the thing to do.

tomorrow

crossroads up a road ahead,

count of miles tonight in bed;

a shorter foot and two a pace,

I’d get there even at half the rate

farther with the fight of fog,

frozen to the closest spot;

peeking through the ice around,

with warmth I sent to sit it out

same about the state of her,

half my thoughts, digested words;

struggle spent to make the plane,

and steal a smile and know her name

staring at the mountain wrought,

digging in and digging round;

a minute off my mind, withdrawn,

from the song called ‘do it now’

gutter stench on surface felt,

on every moment passing by;

I take today to wish me well,

tomorrow’s when I live my life

yesterday

yesterday I found this thought,

to write it in, to write it out;

reminded me of fallen stars,

of folded papers, golden clouds

I stand myself in the thick of rain,

hope to find you there again;

in water with my mind awash,

I close my eyes, and that is all.

I might frown at the finale, I’m getting too obsessed, kind of. Maybe that’s wrong, but I don’t know, maybe that’s exactly what’s right about me? But I hate this, you know. Not how I sometimes defy it, but I hate how I live exactly what I write at times, and how they’re almost always exactly traumatic. And the strangest, yet most obvious thing is that I’d never want to do anything about it. To ‘YOU’.