I got a message from the future

but it just said “sorry,” so what am I

to make of that for it’s just the same

as one carved in bark, REPENT

in capital letters is a posting

dystopia remnant, skeletal reality

offering no time to ponder

the past, beg your pardon.

 

For tomorrow is a sculpture

of the mind, much is imagined

fantasy stupor phonics, inspired

to wish it had been different,

but it can’t, so thinking lessons

never learn like this, instead

I need a book, but for what

do I search, to make sure

this never happens again.

 

No, obviously I could never

express regret, or feel it

for I can’t even remember

unintended slight insults

forgive me, I was dealing

with my own exile, eating dirt

as penance for forgiving

my sins, without learning

anything at all, too late.