That orgastic future

 

There are late nights I spend
Worrying about whether or not tomorrow
will ever come—

Or if
I’ll just be stuck in
The blasé of today—
Seconds ticking, blurred
minute after minute,
day after day, year after year

it’s still today.

I wake up, and I’m here,
That stagnant now, buried
beneath the filth of
inaction—I reach for tomorrow,
“my love,” I tell her, “some day, later,

tomorrow”

Out stretched arm reaching for that light,
her silhouette beckons,
I yearn—
full of hope,
full of dreams,
I run forward, I reach out,
But I quickly find myself
exhausted, I tell myself,
“just one sleep until
that future,”

But I wake up—
rub my eyes,
Again, in a bed, alone—

it’s still today.

But no matter….
I beat on.