Time Is Running Out

Of course things have change and now life possesses a transcendental quality, almost like superfluous strings of impossibility. Like... magic. Like every quality of you is made of golden particles with wind chimes, and stars that shine in this city with too much light too much noise we barely hear each other. Some days you can hear your name in the winds and lighting and it's electrifying, and in four in the morning a pang of guilt stabs you because you miss someone so much your heart willingly aches, and then it's over.

via pinpricks:

from Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out by Richard Siken