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how is the future down there?

Deborah Y. Moon

i see the future.
rising up, all around its circumference, a thick cloud of fog.
it is
coughing, sweltering, thickening—a cloying scent.
full of musk and sweat, monotonous days
of work and more work.
an alarming dearness, constant fear, on lest the
fear disturbed.
but yet again, it is the future.
we never hear
how hollow it is down there.

i hear the future.
a soundless whisper from cracked lips, a naked noise.
it is
popping, deafening, screaming—an echoing din.
never-ending, an everlasting pinch on my strings,
tweaked and hollow.
unlikely to confess, within gaping
but yet again, it is the future.
we never feel
how cold it is down there.

i feel the future.
firing in my brain full of holes. everlasting wisdom (granted!)
it is
sharp, jagged, burning—a severed crack in a burnt kiln
like mingled glass crunched on bare feet
it spikes and bleeds...
a bargain unjust, as we are only
fine dust.
but yet again, it is the future.
we never see
how ugly it is down there.

Deborah is a Korean-American high school student residing in Los Angeles, California. Her writing interests lie in producing works that explore themes of history, culture, and society. She hopes to pursue professional writing in the realms of poetry and fiction prose, taking inspiration from authors such as Yi Sang, R.F. Kuang, and Rick Riordan. During her leisure hours, you’ll most likely find her reading comfortably in a library or sipping a large mug of brimming black coffee at a local cafe.
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