I watch as the city fluctuates between the morning and the evening.

I see the children walking to school, watch them running home.

I wonder.

I wonder. The spinning earth and the waves on the waters. The full moon evenings and the mostly sunny days. Fallen leaves across the pathway towards that old lake.

A radio is playing a song from around 1983. A photograph hits me, of you and me.

I stand here on the ledge of my time here and I wonder.

I’ve been running for so long, I have forgotten how to stand still. I’ve been singing I’m still standing, but I haven’t seemed to have moved.

Standing is not a victory, jumping is not a celebration. I look out towards my future and all I see is my past.

Sundays bring me the blues. I find myself sad and daydreaming of some impossible news.

Last night I dreamed of chaos and I could not take the reigns. With each step I took, I found myself standing still.

I’m caught in this sad sap of an emotion and I cannot break free.

I start to run across the swallowing sand but I cannot move at all. I begin to fall, I awaken to an alarm.

I snooze it, I stay in bed and I wonder. Will I ever move, will I ever improve, or will I continue to lose…