It is just after midnight and I am worried for tomorrow.

Not a Sunday Scaries worry that can be blown away with slow breaths. Nor the bone deep ache of an anxiety cured by little pink pharmecuticals. But the belly burning certainty of a worry which comes from knowing exactly what is happening. And what is going to happen next. 

The birds of the air share their skies with drones designed to destroy,
the lillies of the field shrivel and die before they can spread sweet pollen,
the grass of the field is dead today, tomorrow, forever if we let it. 
The hunger of swelling bellies, the thirst of cracked throats, 
enforced scarcity and the rising stock price of human suffering.

I am worried for tomorrow. But it is after midnight and tomorrow is here. 
There is no Deus Ex coming to Machina this mess of laissez-faire murder, this nest of VR vipers.

It is after midnight and tomorrow is here. I am worried.