I get so lost in time. Did this happen already? Was it a dream or a memory? Same numbers are reappearing on clocks while the clocks themselves change, age, and die. The landscapes are changing and repeating. Illusions stopped being optical centuries ago. The mind becomes a hall of aberrant mirrors and thoughts conspire to never again reflect quite right.
It’s all a handful of sand. Huge, deific hands. Enough to fill a beach at the end of the world. Music becomes water. Someone’s building castles of words, sand, and music as I’m floating right over, lost in centuries I haven’t lived.
I’m slipping off the edge, balancing, but no, this already happened. I’ve been falling for days. Longer. Maybe there’s no edge at all. I dreamt it or someone else did. Years ago or worlds away. I don’t know if it was even me. This wasn’t even me.