Dust goes limp,
made gummy by the rain.
light peers through scrims gray and surreal.
surreal like morning's little nothings you whisper to yourself in the dark, dizzying the night particles dusted over yours eyes.
All the time that stretches before me, all the waves of trudge and glee don't bleed. History runs parallel to the days we live in now.
I know how it feels when forever goes limp in your hands. I'm aware of these pains and how the heart aches to fix these things we leave to time to destroy as it courses through this narrow vein.
Rain flows over as well as it does soak through.
Catch it in puddles in my hands, feels like I'm still losing some things
after all.