Tomorrow’s tomorrow

I don’t even really know
How I’m supposed to feel anymore
When fatigue of emotion sets in
The body, in a fit of survival
Starts to purge and mellow the over-taxing
Cartwheels of a mind left without,
Fulfillment unafforded for too long,
Until the mind-numbing feats become marginally memorable
And even then, only because of their imprint
On the mind, not the heart
Only then is it an exercise in tearing down
Newly-fired neural pathways
Webbing out
Creating structure to accommodate
The idea of you
And all the potentials imagined and real
That sprout, grow and spread
Until all I manage to do is
With an eye to a new day
Yet to be conceived or born
But must come
If I want to feel again
After tomorrow
And tomorrow’s tomorrow

Tomorrow's tomorrow, poetry by Roshan Grossman



  1. This is stunning. The painting is beautiful – both make a perfect combination. Stunning:)

    • Thank you!! Can’t take credit for the painting (it’s a stock image), but I’m glad you enjoy the overall effect of the words matched with this particular piece of art!


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