i’m not a writer, i don’t need to edit.

by epi

one day we’ll be blind
deaf
unable to move with today’s ease.
we’ll find our words stuck
beneath ill-fitting dentures.
our skin will sag.
our friends, they’ll have passed.
i’m just trying to store
up all these today’s
to remember
tomorrow (when yesterday
is the only thing i have keeping
me anywhere).

Advertisements