Tomorrow Tomorrow

I love you tomorrow
Because today I live
Yesterday without you
And it’s killing me.


What holds me

I have become me
That holds no reason
I have become you
That knows no treason
I have become them
That knows no prison

Where do the hours go
when I am absent
in your thoughts?

If only there was sense
when you and I collide
but physics conspired against us
and left nothing but debris

what fools we were in youth
now aged what bigger fools
having learned to take the same road
over and over again

maybe tomorrow will be different
like every other day
that’s the struggle
that’s my victory.


I’m inside the box again. That fucking box. Swear to Christ, Buddha, Mohamed, fucking Cthulhu, I’m sick of it, really, sick of it. Every time it feels like I gain momentum in something, anything, I do, sooner or later I fall into its depths. Four walls, roof, ceiling. No windows, doors, no exit of any kind. I pretty much have to force my way out of this place. Pure brute force. Each. Single. Piss. And. Blood. Time. Has anyone ever considered that it’s just, well, tiring? Like, jacked-off-to-a-five-hour-Jenna-Jameson-porn-marathon tiring. Yeah. That much. It’s a goddamn effort to raise my arms, but here I am, doing so. Why? Shit…what’s plan B? Up and die? Call it quits? Oh boy, I haven’t heard that one before, no sir. Haven’t considered just laying low, wait for the end to slowly inch its way towards me, touch my heart, grip it in its cold, murdering hand and just twist. Tick. Tock. Stop. Done. C’est fini. Ah…who am I kidding? I’m too much of a chickenshit to let it all end, and besides…there’s still a stupid, stubborn, even hopeful (God knows why) bit of me that will simply prop me up on my two and, for at least another moment, get me moving. Out of the box, back to doing whatever it is I was doing before.

Until I fall in again.


Once more unto the breach, ya freaks.