The Future
The future is a joke
My idea of a joke
That is to say, dark and filthy
Riddled with corruption
And corrupted by riddles
The future is murder
Same as the past
Only now more indirect
Less culpable
Easier than ever to follow
Someone else’s order
The future is hope
Felt for fleeting moments
Surely the potential exists
Even by the fluke of random occurrence
For something humane
A collective ascent
But no
But know
The future is distraction
Words and identity
Disappearing into a void
Plummeting through a bottomless well
A shared dream
We experience separately
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