As I speak, a fragment of memory gets lost. Oblivion overcomes with its cloak of dust and silent steps, allowing the sun but denying life, thrashing defenses in slow motion, singing eerie voices, setting a ravenous vortex, draining feelings. What I have been is now sapless substance, irradiating the last glows of lost eons, only visible in bright sunlight. I die every day, I shatter, I disrupt. No healthy breathing, not anymore. The last remains of my soul hover, invisible, mute, waiting for another live, but not here. Here lies just an old ground, between old walls, always the walls.