Worn Down

My failing fingers have rubbed raw

Clawing through the hourglass sand

Spent from my soul’s ticking, clicking clock

As Future becomes Present and flows into Past.


In the darkened room of my mind

There are shuttered drawers of saved memory

And sentiment where I thought to protect

Pieces of me against Time’s stripping flow.


Yet the acidic silica has wormed through the wood

And made a meal of their edges, effacing

Their clarity, and consuming them

Into a decaying fragmentation of gray, ashen obscurity.


Searching frantically through the flow

I have sought even one whole picture

Of who I am, perhaps was, or even will be.

Scooping through the deep depths of fragmented nothing.


Defeat flows through the gaping spaces,

Trickling into small, grained whispers –

Eroding me into the metered wash,

Forming a small pile on the floor.






~ by nihilano on September 14, 2011.

One Response to “Worn Down”

  1. I love the story you wrote about my photography of Kat! She just shared your story with me. Great job!

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