Sometimes the night takes you.

On a hunt in clouded pasts.

Your eyes are turned inwards.

Tearing in time.

Assaulting your memory.

–

Your memory is a shadow.

We can’t see the cause.

We see only its replacement.

The self that we want.

–

What we want.

A past that serves.

A future that fits.

–

A future that in turn.

Will also be hunted.

–

Hunted at night.