Disintegration
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The waves of time lap at your cranial isle
carving creases into grey matter
carrying away the detritus of yesteryear

On some foreign shore, this loose material collects
forming sandy beaches
membered by rememberings
passed by passersby

Someday you will pass by yourself, after passing over
still the same self you've known
but now in so many pieces
you might as well be everything

In the meantime, reach out and pick up this poem:
a message in a bottle, scribbled whence it came

And why did it end like that?