I drift, untethered,
the clock is a quiet ghost
humming somewhere far away.
The second hand dissolves,
minutes spill like water
through a broken glass—
I cannot hold them.
Somewhere, the world keeps moving:
a train on its endless track,
metal against metal,
screaming forward without me.
I blink—
the sun has shifted,
the room tilts into another hour.
My body sits still,
but my mind has wandered
beyond the map of now.
When I return,
I do not know from where.
Only the echo remains,
and time—
already gone.
Therapy Bits 
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