#weightofhours
the day feels like a room
where all the furniture has quietly lost its purpose—
chairs forgetting how to hold,
windows refusing to frame the light.
I walk through it
like a ghost misplaced in its own body,
hands touching objects that do not answer back,
as if the world has slipped its color
and refuses to tell me why.
my thoughts scatter
like papers in a wind that no one else feels,
pages written in a language
I no longer remember learning.
even my reflection drifts,
a blurred constellation
trying to stay arranged
while gravity keeps changing its mind.
I reach for rhythm, for order,
but everything shakes loose—
my voice, my focus,
the thin thread holding the hours together.
and in the quiet
I stand inside the storm
of a life I can see
but cannot quite hold.
Dec 6, 2025
Dec 6, 2025 at 1:37 PM UTC