amnesia finds me searching for what is lost
                    value or sentiment
                         the words           are                  the first                       to
                                                              ­                                                       slip
each
at some point
    originated from these hands
their texture is unfamiliar now
though it's only been one day

full-on compositions are
released to the void
     luckily clouds hold some vapor

I hope it rains tomorrow

forecasts say it's unlikely I will
ever see you again
your disappearance hasn't even occurred
   (to me)   yet

dust will fall
but will ashes
                          this is a lesson in fighting for

I sighed it all away
  before any instinct to clinch
       or swing
          or break

am I better composed than my poetry
simply because I accept
          without questioning

the formulas are lost
      the charge is lost
            the message is lost
yet I still hope to discover myself

amnesia will remind me tomorrow
of another item vanished
but today I plotted out
a future
and nothing seemed to be missing