Thirty

Thirty
Or is it thirty one.
The snow clouds my mind.
Snow and ash, white clouds billowing down
We have traversed and conquered this little town.

History
Or is it the present?
You bought me presents
And we drank coffee, black and white
Like the films that flicked, was that day or night?

I haven't slept
I haven't dreamt
Yet reality slipped away
Many day, many nights ago
Nightmares or reality, I don't know.

We are beings that do not belong here
In the open air
Among the people
Who smile at their mothers
And eat their home-brand cereal
When the sun greets the day.

But today we are older than the sun,
We are older than the dreams we had
We are younger than the earth
But, Oh! In this second
This breath before dawn
We are not reborn (not yet)
But we struggle on.

Thirty
Or is it thirty one?

Letters
Moments mix with minutes
And hours mix with horrors.
And I am content in this rent in time
We have torn apart the day
It is yours
It is mine.

Thirty.
Or was it thirty one?

The world unravels
Like threads in fantasy novel
Like tears in a game
Like rain in the night
Like snow in the day.

Thirty.
Will it be thirty one?

We have betrayed clocks
We have turned our backs on calendar days
And ancient ways, and yesterdays
And all the days yet to be made
Just exist.
Just breath with me.
Just one more.
Or is it thirty?