Where Are We

By Peter Bowden
A man lost in time...he sings.

The sands emptying out of the hour glass. Old age creeping across his face like a spider spinning its web in the dark forest across a path that no one will walk. A voice that is tired and filled with passion, filled with tears. Perhaps regretting the past. Perhaps afraid of the tomorrow.

Lost in time. Memories mixed with the now. The moment. As long as there is... another lyric softly spoken as the music builds and swells, growing louder... you... me.

Time. New aches. Unknown secrets of illness quietly growing in the dark. Time. There's just not enough to get it all done. Desperate. Feelings. Desperate feelings. The moment, it will finally come. When does it come.

It's going to be alright, he whispers to no one as he draws a line in the air, drawing blood, the thick ooze dripping from his fingers. The copper taste in his mouth.

Time. An empty ache.

Desperate feelings for a man lost in time.

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