Free verse/ prose piece I forgot i had written.

I don’t understand it. A memory in my mind, intangible as the wisp of smoke from the end of a crumbling cigarette.
The transient state of existance as next becomes last and only now seems to last. An eternal second stretching impossibly with the weight of its own importance.
The vibration of life is imperceptable as each peak and trough cannot end, an entropic reality fighting against common sense.
Names evaporate from my tongue before they can be spoken, much less remembered. Each instance of thought a universe unto itself.
All of the knowledge in my brain has always been there, I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t, so it had to there, inherent in the design: two plus two, a lock of hair, just another in a chain of peptide bonded amino acids spiraling in upon itelf.
Was it a future stolen from me or a bleak present, a mediocre past, but they are all the same inseperable.
Déjà vu is the feeling that everything that has ever happened is actually occurring now.