Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will go elsewhere,
somewhere where I can't be found by the justice blanances the float around and dry the waters and boast the earth, the same eyes that dried the drips from the hearse, and the lips of the seal that flat-out blubbered its teal feelings of nothing,
the ones that found me and something else that was of importance to it,

for tomorrow is the day that loses its wits because there was never a day so mentally intact as to chose its humanity with the right track of decisions and careful incisions into the proper God mind that feels the terrible contracts that contract our kind, because tomorrow is a day that knows no harm, but by the law of humanity should be heavily alarmed to the status of the dawn no approaching, now rising, moving on like a clock that is nothing to the findings of trains and of leads and various coasts and reeds, because tomorrow is a day that knows no harm, with a infantile body and a cherub-like garm, head in the heavens with no sight and no arms, sitting beside nothing waiting to be spawned, which makes me feel the weight of drain-o and the lever cleaving leaves that insist on the sanity of the patriarchal community, for immunity in tomorrow is the penicillin it must borrow from perfection which is out of its reach, an inhabitant of a universe outside of our sheath in this closed universe of closed minds and still time, which is snynonomous with the name of my cellophane rhine, and breaks the seeds of this leading tall kneads, so I fall to my knees and love the only thing I see, for the mind is always searching for something out of me, something better than my condition with a falsely drawn premonition of a day when the mission is to simply be an addition to the world and the peace of it all, and that day is tomorrow when I go elsewhere and claw at the fabrics of civilization and the handholds of simulation which in turn upset this body, because there's nothing to pour but coffee that's poured at the same time everyday, never changing its sway, because of the peace that dies today that thoroughly shows me the words I say when I utter that tomorrow is innocent when it's already killed so many, tomorrow is not innocent because it's already taken so many, its already fed on lives to keep the constant cycle pretty for the eyes of some elated child-like giddy-grit, who decides to drive tomorrow with its horrible slave whip to do what today has not accomplish and to break open our whits, to take over tomorrow's mind and control it to the stitch, however I still love tomorrow, because it's basically not today, and it can hold something elsewhere that can be a shiny day, but as I lay my head tonight, I think of what follows; the thoughts that go through my head: hopefully I can sit still and say, tomorrow transcends today, and I will love tomorrow.