horizon cuts the throat of the Sun,
memory separates from fantasy,
you fail to comprehend what you’ve become.
the sky bleeds above the same scenes;
same faces, same shapes & places & you
always another day further away
from when it began,
from when so much sand
was left in the hour-glass.
So awful it was when you finally
realised the truth;
when the wildflowers
withered & the blue
slowly faded away.
behind darkening glass,
no way out.
did it come to this,
did all the mess begin?
either the future already exists or still
it can be changed,
not every chain