Passage of Time

Writing

Time evaporated from my fingertips as I attempted to grasp the white matter that lingers amidst the sky. I’ve attempted being aloof and free flowing as I progress through life: I’ve been trying to make all the right choices and please the heart and soul of anyone who entered my life.  Time still slipped away from me like water through the cracked ceiling of an abandoned home. I once asked myself, “how come you never dream of yourself flying?”  The question plays a vibrant tune within my ear canal. It creates a tingling sensation that shakes my soul. Maybe I don’t dream of flying because I’m constantly falling, sprawling, spiraling, floating, slipping, in and out of dreams and back into reality and it’s become so difficult for me to dream anymore. In spite of my desire to dream I’ve become a victim of restlessness and bloodshot eyes that lurk through my homes desolate hallways at night. Those who go searching for dreams only manifest their nightmares. I’ve always felt like dreams chased after me as I lie down to slumber.  The abysmal personality that I hold is deep enough to hide fallen ships sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic and never be found again.

Lately I’ve been worried about where I’ll wind up once my physical being ceases function and my soul floats on.  My family has always said they’ve prayed for me and that no matter what I lack in beliefs since they’ve recited Holy Scriptures from books written in foreign tones they’ve studied. They believe that their words and wishes are the key to me being granted into heaven.

I snap photos as I close my eyes and try to frame pictures that I’ve stained upon my mental lobes summer memories. I’ve tried to mentally capture these joyous moments and them reminisce upon them with peers before we all float on to our destinations. The words tip toe and dance upon my tongue as I let them out with a gleeful cry of poetic wordplay and images. This has been my summer. Time has slipped away from me and fallen through to large cracks in between my fingers. Yet I’ve been lacking something, that sensation that vibrates to my very core. I’m lacking the one thing everyone wants. I’ve wasted time, and that is insurmountable. I need to escape the false reality and illusions t hat surround me.

Because time is never going to stop flowing or advancing simply because I wish to stay in the past: Time doesn’t have any other purpose but to advance. Time is the only thing in our lives we can never grasp or ever control: and I have wasted time.

 

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