Foresight

I am finding it hard to see
Tomorrow. The picture dims
under my blackened sun.
Images, peeking from the darkness
My fingers try, but only pave the way for
tears as they anxiously
rub on eyes reddened till glow
from lasting footprints
of exhaustion. With the streak,
meandering down my cheek,
the smell of fear comes surfing
atop their presence.
My breathing quickens

I am certain
I will not be trapped in today.
Time never leaves any prisoner with
yesterday. Not ever!
It drags us all, feeding us
with the moment. Never satisfying.
A perpetual meal served
Till we, of our own pleasures and dread
choke. And then
it feeds us
more.

I am certain
I will not be trapped in today.
And this fear, perked up in excitement
adorned in its irrationality
robe, Grins. Knowing
not of tomorrow, but only
of the obscurity that engulfs me
as it, paint brush in hand,
paints my sun black

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