Shifting Sands

Like an hour glass -
shifting sands, the granules mini-movements
creating rip-tides
slipping away -
time & thoughts of you.

Like spent gun powder the smell
burns my nostrils & stops my heart.
Entertaining a dream.
So slipping away -
it all slips away
to settle unhealthily in my belly.
Ulcer.
Gritty particles, molten
now creating glass
Stabbing, cutting, ripping, tearing.
The Salty blood stings
but I conceal it well - I always do.
And you will never know
because I will never let you.
So the sands stop -
runs out of time -
space, life, energy, inertia, being --- hope.

And you go on.
Turn the glass over.
Painfully start the process again - shifting sands.
Serpentine movements, spiraling downward,
funneling
endlessly.

Cycles