Time has slipped away from my pen. It’s been lost into the ether and absent any handwritten ink. No evidence of how I think or have thought during the past twenty-two days, my brain ablaze in a muffled haze but not brain-fried or stuck in a daze.
I live in the moments between moments but ever forgetful of what must be done to completion prior to proceeding to the next bleeding endeavor. I must remember to write down this stuff and not just stuff it down or let it vanish like a memory not made.
The events of the past fastly fade away and I struggle to grasp onto the echo of the soon to be unknown only to have it eliminated by the Langoliers consuming dead hopes and future fears.