i have plans.
next tuesday, or tomorrow.
next month, or next year.
next lifetime in a beat,
but the next day in eight breakdowns.i have plans.
next time you'll hear of me-
well, it won't be me.
next, you're composing tears
and weeping verses in my name.i have
tomorrow, which will be different,
but all the same. if you know
what i mean,
never make plans.because i have
something stuck between my
next rise and fall. and
next time, you'll hear that i rose
but was brought down.i have plans.
YOU ARE READING
𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄ᵖᵒᵉᵗʳʸ
Poetrysomewhere in the crevices of my bones lies my cobwebbed, hollow hopes. - a poetry collection