Attempts

I used to have a life,
Somehow I had  it fine
Could be I'm seeing it again
Can't seem to find in it the line,
Anymore...

I tend to do the exercise
of looking back and back again
till my eyes look dazed
as if nothing existed, then.

The hours, the moments,
the rush of events,
Still living here now,
Still making no sense.

Maybe sense is not to be,
Maybe but a memory.
The hours, the moments,
The rush of events,
A numbness
A madness
A past of attempts...

I used to have a life,

Somewhere I had  it fine

Could I be seeing it again?

Can't seem to find in it the line,

Anymore...