Tomorrow

Tomorrow is closer.

.

Our legs taking us to a strange space,

creating a different itineration

of the story written.

.

Today I feel the burn,

scar tissue hardening a resistance

to the phantom pains

.

of parts and wars

lost long ago,

.

the fox holes, the lost self,

the toxic gas, and the darkness

birthing the new itineration.

.

Wounds nestling in my throat

in the air itself

the oxygen I breathed

in what was left of my lungs,

.

during these lost days.

.

Tomorrow whispers in my ear.

A seductive mistress bearing me,

lifting me, long tongued

.

out of a stuck past

I cannot see through.

.

The shadow and ash

of quenched flame,

haunts my broken vision

spectacles married to a past

.

gone from the physics

of our birthing construct.

.

Liters of let blood,

pool into crevices of cracked

cobble stoned streets,

.

Painted sienna,

painted crimson,

skies the color of arterial blood.

.

I meditate on a dusty

smoke filled night,

thinking of you,

.

and this death, life.

.

The sheen of red

reflected in dreams

tying me to lost days

.

the sacrificial liquid

of a hard birth, and the colors

of the after effect

.

staining the dying of the past self

and the recreation of my own physics.

.

I cannot tell the difference

between flashbacks

of choke filled gas,

.

and the smoke

from my cigar, etched

across a half-baked moon.

.

Tomorrow, feels a bit farther

then she did before.

But the scent is still there.

.

I feel this new breadth,

tips of new fingers,

the caress of a new wind,

.

a shifting and churning

time piece freshly constructed,

framing the physics

of a new story so I get up.