the future

The future is my worst enemy,

it’s a shapeshifter with a menacing smile,

clawing its way down my path,

an obsidian vortex in the form of a spider,

sucking the life out of the forest I’ve

built.

And the thing is, I’m short sighted, so I can never

really make up its form, a foetus,

covered by amniotic fluid: yellow,

cloudy, muddy and disgusting – this

aura that protects the future (my enemy)

from showing it’s true form.

 

Day by day, depending

on the color and feeling of my

bedsheets, whether I’ve dreamt

of falling teeth, the future morphs

to its personal likings.

From a beautiful flower poisonous to

the touch to a pillar of arsenic,

always lethal and toxic.

The future never really leaves

me,

I know this because I smell

my own fear in the air.

I know the because since I’ve made

this enemy,

my footsteps barely touch the

ground, and the hairs on my arm

stand tall like skyscrapers (even in the morning).

 

No-one can protect me from the

future.

It falls through the stitching of

cotton and strides through satin.

If you ever manage to hold it on your

fingertip, it will sink

through your skin,

then, you will be injected

with pure-terror.

Don’t go looking for my

enemy,

it will find you first.

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