I have existed a thousand lives
in the foresight of my mind.
Nine hundred ninety nine are fate-less
to a story without rewind.
What if? What if? What if?
A question stuck on repeat.
Even if THE if be if…
victory as likely as defeat.
My mind’s eye sees shadows of the presents’ lights.
The forecast fades regardless of all my crying plights.
What ever I say or do won’t stop encroaching blights!
Blubbering, slithering, slimy, dismal, dreary, deathly sights…
Of the thousand days that I see as be tomorrow,
take some solace premonition from accuracy cannot ever borrow.
Good days. Bad days. Sideways strange days.
Up days. Down days.
My brother dies from a heart attack.
My lover drives my heart happy taps.
Robots play the harmonica.
Angels fall, driven demonical.
Really? Who knows? You actually can prepare too much.
After all, the present is the only device you may touch.