Forgotten are the moments missed,
the never was world
parting from this
waking reality
where I walk from
the end to nowhere.

Sweet salutations
sent to the void,
no expectation,
but still I am annoyed.

Every dream
becomes a whistle,
a tune that is
on the tip
of my tongue,
and like a specter
as soon as I think
I have captured
that diaphanous thing
it is gone.

Forgotten are
the hopes and aspirations
lost moments
in-between
the heartbeats
and their ceasing,
decreasing all
possible outcomes
as well as the
well of memories
we all sprung from.