Future Sonnet 

o, what is it - this twisted fear? 
this dreadful woe that crease my brow! 
however shall i live it now? 
(this life stretched out before me here) 
without, it seems, not brake nor steer 
alone this body grows (and sours...) 
a gentle drift towards his hour.. 
enjoying not, nor holding dear - 
not any joy my life brings near 
the soul is left to hide and cower 
bereft of joy and stripped of power 
so lonely, lost, bleak scared and drear 
how can i ever feel as one - 
until my life in flesh be done?!