Being On Time

alzheimers-63610_640Time keeps moving forward and yet I lose track of it as it starts to rush together and I am trapped somewhere it does not exist any longer because the days are the same as the nights and the weeks are the same as the months.

I forget the meaning of time because it all becomes the same. Midnight might as well be noon, spring might as well be winter.

No markers to place to define time, no events to displace the sense of the endless tone, ringing the same note forever.

No faces and no voices to disperse the sense that this place is eternally mine, wrapped around the coil of stagnation and the realization that for some, time hurts.

It was just Summer, it was just happening, it never happened, you were just here, you were never here at all.

Waiting and waiting and time keeps moving but it does not change…and still the clocks tick away silently mocking me as it goes.

Thomas Spychalski

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