So Many Little Tomorrows

There are so many little tomorrows

Each bringing nothing but sorrow

Each sorrow bringing its own sorrow

Carrying its own sorrow

To grind you into the ground

To gather bits of your soul

To scatter it dark and cold

Spinning through the stratosphere

To cause you to wonder:

Am I really here?

Was I ever?

But lest you forget

My dear

The soul is more than you or I

More than muscle

More than thigh

It can be corrupted

Or piercingly pure

Either way

It will remain here

“Do your damnedest you impish fiend!”

“Bring out the razor, the pills, the booze.”

“Bring out whatever you choose.”

……I will remain clean