What is Tomorrow?
What is tomorrow except a thousand impossible moments, waiting to not happen for me?
Sliced to nothing by every sound imaginable, my body will not comply with tomorrow.
All that tomorrow brings then, is great risk and ever-approaching never-ending suffering.
Demolished by imperceptibly little, no one sees the tortured life I live,
Reduced to a stiff statue on the outside, by even the slightest noise,
I am left with nothing but empty jelly and silent screaming, within.
Tomorrow lies beyond the shifting strands woven by hope and possibility,
Defies the likelihood of any probability to be anything more than tragic pain
And anguished dissipating energy.
Tomorrow is already crying as it approaches,
Then passes me by,
Burying its head in a hundred million other lives more interesting, demanding, flamboyant,
Yet sees me not,
Buried as I am, under a heap of crushed moments from tortured brutal ignorance
And broken promises of hoped for better days, long denied.
Tomorrow then, is already out of reach,
Will not bring more than a glimmer of light to my disappearing life,
Will pass with the merest insignificant contact.
It will dance and sing with the sun and the breeze.
It will throw gifts to passing strangers,
Yet I will not be invited to join the fun.
Instead, I will be lying in my bed, trapped in a world, in which I cannot move,
Stuck in a life in which I cannot tolerate sound,
Prevented from expression, by an inability to speak,
Separated from normality by a body that cannot interact,
Isolated from everyone, unable to tolerate the simplest contact,
Completely physically paralysed, I will not be able to do anything, even blink.
As the dawn arises
And greets the coming day,
I will be flattened into nothing, left rigid, in tremendous agony
Blanked of thought,
Emptied of sensation,
Iced to the bone,
Imprisoned by rebellious muscles that will not respect intention or will,
Awake, aware, yet still unable, despite my best effort,
I will struggle to convey my disappointment
That another tomorrow has finally arrived
And found me, yet again, not present to participate.