24/2/2017 A literary representation of a messed up view of non-linear time
My spread fingers
trying to hold onto the present...
failing to grip the now,
I think I dropped tomorrow...
maybe I mixed it up with yesterday,
as my blind digits flailed around,
trying to make sense,
trying to catch and piece together
all this tactile time.
My dyslexic reasoning,
like coloured clays blended with one another,
swirled in and inseparable.
This oil painting of time inside my mind's eye...
Where is the meaning here?
Perhaps I held it...
But it's gone now
into the future of a long forgotten past
of another me.