Turning around to find yourself facing the yawning, gaping mouth of the future a black hole of unknowns grabbing at you with tiny black, star-speckled hands The weight of it's gravity pulls you to your knees wide-eyed stare of uncertainty, unable to look away limitless vacuum that no light can escape not knowing, the torrent of fear in perpetual motion The mind's desperate grasp for something to hold onto feet slipping forward into far-away, formless infinities the tension of muscles trying to cling to past and present an ill fated battle against all powerful time So afraid to surrender to the inevitable destination distracted by the scent of suffering in smaller doses marveling at the mind's ability to imagine countless possibilities exhausting itself to find safety in contingencies for each one The hopeful illusion of life as a game of chess pretending there are a set of correct moves to make that will spare you from all pain and regret the pressure to perform perfectly enough to find peace
Protect the Innocent 