all day inside

All day
within blank

nothing but the hard
pillows of my thoughts

dead past
hauled by brittle filaments
of memory

the vast tomorrow
so enormous
it’s still uncertain
whether its obese fingers
can fit in my door
and carry me away
into its dark irresolute

a window is opened
a whiff of essential black fate

I’ll sleep with a key over my chest
as if the heart can open its vault

to love
the engine
of the unknown

Nihilistic Poetry

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