this restless paradox
has its face amended with every breathless blink;
every twitch another wrinkle in seconds, or hours.
at any juncture, this mind thins itself through
three instances in space-time, every moment
best forgotten. here lies no respite between
manic and soulless, between sleepless itch and
waking dreams; silvered glass perceives each scar,
reflected on hands, answers primed against shattering
duality. this constant is merely change distilled
from chance, each singularity an existence confirmed
in minute ventilation. time future contains no space
for time present and time past, no room to remember
middle ground between two worlds. here, no mirrors
remain, only fragments abandoned on cold marble;
each an amended face scarred with red ink,
each nautical star smothered by its timeless night.
issue 01 | nicholas quek