Clear as day
Is the scope of the blind memory
Shapes a world never seen

In synaptic past
Those faces will wane
Thoughts will drown slowly
In the instinct sinkhole

No more condolence
Apologies don’t work when
Misfortune can’t be sighted

Now I recall
How easy was to grasp a pulse
Or to reveal what’s lost in front of me
Necessities, mechanic
No sight can heal
A fact I can’t see

Clockwork

Like a cogwheel, like clockwork
Parting ways with my mind is vain
It was left behind long before

So shut them
The echoes in my soul leave no room
For my very own mind

In synaptic past
Those faces will wane
Thoughts will drown slowly
In the instinct, instinctive sinkhole

The scent of change
I feel rags rotting off my shoulders
Voices becoming louder
As in haste I go to shut them

Now I recall
How easy was to grasp a pulse
Or to reveal what’s lost in front of me
Necessities, mechanic
No sight can heal
A fact I can’t see

When I see the scent
The wind of change
Hunt them, shut them
Silently shut them

Particles of dismay