thinking

Precious time disappearing with each descending tick - gone.
Lost to the past.
As lost as the words in my head I mull over but never write down as I walk wet city blocks to work, to school, my only alone times.

Mind numb - give no time to the blood and violence lurking around the corners of my heart, my unspoken nightmares, my unhappy ending.

I used to have premonitions when I was young. Surreal waking day dreams that ended up true. Perhaps as child, invisible and observant, I picked up more than anyone realised, perhaps because I was a child I could only make sense of the things I saw as I grew up.

I've lost that feeling now - instinct worn by ignorance ice and dreams.