Gasp.

Stomach heaving, contorting the body in wicked memory
Jumping forward, trying to lunge from my being the pain it is feeling
They say we have yet to master time travel, but they couldn’t be more wrong
Step into my mind and access the portal to all of the yesterdays, still trying to get away
I want to make a stand, to run far from your hand, to escape the clutch of–no, no more
My feet stick to the wet cement of a tormented mind and I, I cry
I can’t control the ragged breaths that escape my lungs
I’ve lost sight of present and future as the past overtakes time
Suspended in non-existence, dangling from the web of before
Holding my insides in as I’m g-g-gasping on the floor.

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Gasp.

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