All the tomorrows trickling between my fingers.
Time grinding onwards, as I keep
reaching out for something I can’t quite shape,
all those perfect plans that now feel stale.
draining sea of possibilities, wading through, feeling
so drowsy, so heavy and so slow.
All the decisions, moments and past choices.
Little pesky things, they crawl up,
they twist and crystallise around me.
Pinning me down, making it
to wriggle out
to take back, to hesitate
to run away and hide until I
feel ready to stab again.