Had I been given the chance, I would have recognized the awkwardness.
Tired; lines appear to be circles,
Shadows lose shape and billboards continue their timed rotations.
I am moving through this space, dazed and lacking structure.
I check the minutes and hours. The clock almost offends me.
Time is not mine anymore.
Silenced and damaged, I'm ready to make amends.
Almost ritualistic in nature, I repeat my actions again and again.
I've done this to myself.
Bit by bit I take small pieces of recognized faults and chew them over.
I savour the bitterness created by my routine.
By now it is late and sky is painting itself a dense grey.
The twilight moon beckons everything into silence.
Lavish solstice spies into incomplete space.
It is not the time for sun now.