i woke walking,

tall grass bending without wind

a minute here, is as a thousand years--

facade without an end

my third person dances in mirrors

reflecting replays from the past

she saw him again…

and itʼs always the same

circle and repeat:

slow motion running,

a slap, and ripples up his cheek

his presence multiplied

for promises of peace

a cerebral padded cell

essentially her hell