Half Asleep, Wind Chimes

It was a different time.  Things were different then.  Why do you insist upon reliving the past?

Where is your present?

Nowhere to be found.

Where is your future?

Buried in the ground if you keep looking behind you for what lies ahead.

History may repeat itself,

But you are not dead, yet.

Where have you been?

The heavens cry out with such overwhelming silence, you swear you heard the answer somewhere inside that textbook you read while you were half asleep.  If only you had half as good a memory as you used to before when things were different then.

Retaining the information was like the pack rat, never throwing away.

Now, there is the empty attic, the empty garage.

There is a shell that used to be a home.

There is a bridge that used to bridge something.

Now there is nothing left over.

No change for a dollar.

No change to the bland look in your eye.

Bland as the Wonder Bread, pure, white.

Your pupils are stained with time.

Your spectacles ruin the once beautiful view of your eyes.

You used to be so nice.

Now a porcupine's outer layer seems like a comfort.

You are the one who makes us wait for you to come out of the shell.

The sharp remarks, the sharks retorts,

Eat that dinner, bloody and raw.

The wind chimes mock your facade.