Borrowed time wasted

A lot of this is old poetry. Some of it is new. It doesn't matter what is what. It needs out.

Untitled
A photograph cannot retain
The memory of feel
Days can pass
And I cannot
Recall the painful metamorphosis
From tragedy to peace

Therein I find a fatal flaw
To which I indulge
Taking pictures of
Everything I've already done and said



Years Pass
Even the ruins cannot withstand
To orbit round the sun
Still I'm here to reconcile
All I've left of the past
A bleak and fading memory
Accentuated by my own ruins
A decade of nostalgia
Stashed away
Between the approaching
Enemy of Progress
And my dirty feet

Tell me, to whom do I owe
For all the muddled aspirations of my youth?