Tomorrow Keeps Coming

This daydream is golden,

a vast land built up by mountains,

giants protecting the peace,

a God of some sort,

leading me to places

I didn’t know I needed

until I’m there— a place

that also needs me.

Not to survive,

but to be seen.

It’s melting, dripping,

fading into another grey morning

where I wake,

accustomed to sleeping alone.

My limbs are too heavy,

a burden, weighing me down,

itching to run,

but where is the starting line?

I’ve been wondering about that for years.

I get lost in

the sleeves of an old boyfriend’s t-shirt,

even though he’s no longer mine,

and hasn’t ever been, really.

I miss a best friend’s laugh,

even though she might hate me now.

I even can’t help thinking about

the stranger I fell in love with last year,

although he didn’t fall for me.

All this in context—

sixteen dollars an hour,

waiting on a bus that doesn’t come,

avoiding certain parts of town,

regretting leaving home,

but knowing I can’t go back just yet.

I want to do, not just be.

I cry over the news,

and get drunk with my friends

on the same day.

Tomorrow keeps coming,

but it all looks the same to me,

and I guess that means

staying is not an option.

Swimming and drowning,

drinking and not eating,

moving, but never changing,

I sink, slowly,

and I don’t know how

to start running again.

Everything floats.

I wonder if there is a place

that can scare me

into living a life again.