Sitting still on stairs,
hands folded around.
Vision about, the aim that I set out.
Absence seizures ,
the hemispheres jump the thoughts around.
Abashed by the stuff, I failed upon.
Should I time travel back ,
Without staying in desolation for some unexpected score .
Footsteps passing , A constant nemesis.
I sit for some more time, making this illusory flow out on all sides.
Lonesome chills , circumlotary speaks to console.
But nothing goes in as I watch the rays fade crawl.
I...