You
don't yet know the
Things
you will do
In
desperation and need.
Stupidity,
greed, hate.
You
may think tomorrow
Carries
a magic just beyond
The
reach of imagination.
This
is largely true,
but
it's a Black Magic,
Filled
with terror and compromise,
Constructing
foundations of debasement
Which
you will only recognize
In
the loneliness and rage
Of
unforgettable moments.
Forget
your tomorrows,
They
will come soon enough,
To
break your mind and leave you
Scrambling
for the end of the Now,
As
tomorrow's tomorrows
Have
you wishing
For
the magic of childhood when
The
dread of crushing failure and meaninglessness,
Worthlessness
and unlovability,
Were
not even in the imagination,
Much
less cut into your heart and face.
