Moved by something here

Perhaps tangible, perhaps not

As though it were ever true

Or ever anything like I remember

Imagining anything I could touch for myself

Or for someone standing there

Now crisply abstracted by moonlight

Submerged in tombstone decadence

It's here I reside

In the disguised chaos

And I cling to the present

Before time has its way

Something flickers

Burning in unfamiliarity

And the senses reprogram themselves

By some form of adaptation

There's a use for the black scar in my sight

As the rhapsodic nostalgia drowns into it

And when blinking into the mania

The event horizon grows clearer

My former self dispersing

Waving at me like the years did