Vantage Point

We were living
in a world where
each second was an hour-glass,
flowing to the speed of
our un-obtainable dream.
Which fled,
like the sand,
away from our bodies,
leaving only ourselves
to transform into mountains.
Mounds of ash and dirt,
on which we took it in turns
to shout our messages to one
another,
across the horizon,
hoping one day
to finalise our feelings.
Until God himself stood in
the middle of our tornado of words,
our battle for more time,
threatening to unveil
a plauge of locus,
from angry heart shaped clouds,
if we wouldn't let up.

So we did.

And I tried
for a while
to live,
feeling like the director
had just shouted 'cut',
a million scenes too early.
And I tried to hide the anguish,
which was turning
my body
into an item,
left in the lost and found at school.
Parts which you refused to return,
parts which I could no longer identify.