Living in sections with gaps in between.
Memories are fleeting, insubstantial ghosts;
Even ghosts lived once though.
Lucidity beckons, as does a yearning for clarity.
But when it is the moments you don’t remember,
When it is the snapshots that hold the key,
Then how can you be sure if you’ve ever really lived at all?
Such are the tribulations of a time-lapse mind.
The only assurance being that there is none to be had,
And if there was, you wouldn’t remember it.