A curtain of time

Sometimes I feel the whole world in one giant curtain falling over me, every moment in time has been stitched into this curtain billowing over me. It’s all been done before and that’s all I know because it’s fuzzy and discreet, and I have to bumble like a new born baby anyway, repeating my falls and rises and desires and indiscretions. It’s too fuzzy to detour the potholes and I’m not sure I’d want to for fear of mind-numbig tranquility. But it’s only mind-numbing to my impatience.


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