Today’s haiku challenge:
My style is the five/seven/five syllable structure. Here are is my second version of this prompt:
a future of ash.
personalized nuclear
winter; no shivers.
a future of doom,
not from any externals,
but opening eyes.
my future self spits
dirt from his mouth, wondering
why I couldn’t make it.
my future self is
unable to speak to me,
voice lost among stars.
future depression
like the old depression, and
current depression.
anxiety is
never in the future, but
always about it.
I gobble future
hopes — an insatiable need —
but none taste quite right.
the past puppets the
future, but nobody sees
the shadow hand there.
a weird thing to hope
in the future, memories
of you don’t exist.
in the future, the
galaxy’s wonders will look
the same to new eyes.