Out of Time

shards of sanity
scattered intermittently
across the glass-like surface

shades of unfamiliarity
fade into permanence

the strangest of our thoughts
condemned to feeling

only the past
remains unchanged

it is inconsequential

as words are

as they ever were

stinging our jaded eyes

with the distortions of our dreams

forever dangling
out of reach
and out of time

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

6 thoughts on “Out of Time”

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