Tomorrow creeps,
it crawls,
sludges and stalls—
but tomorrow brings truth,
light,
and dawn.

Tomorrow is discovered,
it is unveiled,
it reveals.
In the reverent halls of worship stalls,
and the back room walls
lined with empty bottles.

Pushing forward
through the thickness of time,
the membrane between autonomy and design—
tomorrow is promise, potential,
freedom in its finest state.
No levy could contain.

But tomorrow is danger,
it is sorrow,
a perpetual loop.

Tomorrow is the silence
after the storm,
the desolate landscapes
of ruin and regolith.

Tomorrow is a tide,
holding it all inside.

Tomorrow is the scratch of pain
on wrists nailed by shame.

Tomorrow is a knife,
serrated with retribution.
Restoring pride
to lonely life.

Tomorrow is the stretched second,
everlasting regard.
It is the open road
for your getaway car.

Tomorrow is absolution,
advent,
attribution.