"Hi, just checking in"

The past feels like sand
It falls between my fingers
Like a warm breeze
on a summer's day.

The past is a cage
It imprisons us,
governs us
It tortures us
Yet comforts us.
Weighing us down
Like wet trousers
Around the ankle,
Pulling us down,
Deeper and deeper
Into the abyss
Off of own folly.

The past moves to fast
I remember those days
The ice cream popciles
That melt like time,
Moments that dissolve
Like sunny afternoons
Blending into night's light,
The aching tendons
Of sexual desire
And the stupid regrets
I burned in the fire
I own these.

I once wept for the future,
The present disgusts me,
I hear the echoes
And respond in kind,
Searching for splinters
I'm still yet to find.

I am tired
Defeated,
I prey to the gods
Who well one day
awake me.
blowing Ciniman kisses
that taste of this.

 This is future speaking
"Hi just checking in"
But nobody speaks!