New Season

The long hot summer careens by through a furious breeze whipping up the sands of time
reflections and ravages
crash test dummy drivers and passengers slamming into walls
falling off cliffs into stagnant infernos
five years it takes to fully accept the death of the woman who bore you
let's trade that acceptance for the death of pending offspring and forsaken love
oh, wait my best friend just bludgeoned a five-year-old girl to death with a hairbrush
it's not Hitchcock
but it's real
years before he stopped me from putting a noose around my neck
laughed as I showed him the nail
and showcased a stretched-out rope
what?
did I just switch this narrative?
past tense? present tense? future tense?
first person? second person?
how about just tense?
my mind is a bullet train speeding through the force of it all letting discarded realms of time's past burn
that sand is ash
it blows away into the negation of wasteland blues
I've learned to move in a desolate harmonious eternity that maybe more copper than gold
at moment