The future,
If anything,
Is staring into the blackhole
An inevitable abyss
And life
As a compounding series
Of choices guided by inanities
Wears out its charm
Yet
When seemingly, the best option is to be forgotten
When you can’t forget
The world opens up
Through the lens
Of friends
This little space
We reach for
And return to
We wage wars
We lie
Awake, or sleep in
To end up hoping
That I, nor anyone alive right now,
Not be the one to figure it all out
For when it all starts to make sense
It usually signals the end
Or the start of life
Seemingly getting better
Getting boring
Getting worse
danDAman 