Summers reek of a familiar scent

begrudging loneliness

and a hint of about a million

ideas that roam inside my head

To many to process

but just enough that I feel

the need to seek their creaking footsteps

Catastrophic curiosity about the past

all the yesterdays that made today

that painted the dusty room upstairs

gray and dull and empty

Still uncertainty

the things I remember

that don’t remember me

Time is forgetful

and that forgetfulness in turn

makes youth so arduous to preserve

makes youth a hearse

and preservation a sepulchre

If I had to guess what was missing

I’d say

my presence

my mind

and my heartbeat in sync with time

Yet summers are somehow the same

in its sun stinging against my flesh

always hoping for the best

in the midst of all the mess

again and again and again and again

Perpetuate