He always spoke and moved in the past tense
as if living life backwards
All he wanted was a time-machine
forgetting that the past would become the present
and the present is not sweet like nostalgia
but bitter than before
it’s a realisation that your problems exist
and that the gone will remain gone now

He still closes his eyes
put his hands on them
The imagination comes alive
only to be drowned by the already imagined
the memories that help put up a mask for now
a caress to the current blindness of now
But what will he think about
when the present no longer remains
as he finally becomes one
with what he wanted
When he will be spoken of
in a past tense that cremates

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