Sep 2, 2024
the gaping tomorrow
is an open salt bottle
its cap unscrewed
it resembles the vast white serenity of peace
but when I feel the texture, coarse grains like thorns embrace me
it scalds my hands and makes me move back in pain
but without its generous sprinkling, everything seems tasteless
I stare at it with confused eyes
like a catapult, I see myself
caught running between a temple
and taking a dip
in the big abyss of nothing
I join my hands
I shrug my hands
I hope that things change and they remain the same
When things change, I pray that they stay the same
it never ends
its been years since I started to
Overthink
think
and I realised, that my tomorrow
never came
Everything stayed the same
the taste of the salt and the catapult of my mind
Only I changed.