23:59
one minute and I’ll no longer be
the me I am today
I am a timeline of people and
tomorrow
the clock sets back to zero
it will start counting again the minutes
I have to grow
even one new petal leaves me aglow
I can bloom, time knows
and only time will show
in the dark, the clock glows
mind rewinds
a mental reset to remind
me the changing clock can be a doorway
I wonder if time is walking or running
Does it bruise, does it splinter?
Does it rupture, does it split?
I think I worry about time too much.
Living alongside the rhythmic and repetitious strides
Of the backdrop of humanity
Seems to fill my head with it.
With time.
The nonstop tick-tock is locked into my footsteps
Into the beats per minute of my heart
Blinking numbers or the hypnotic swirl
Of hands that spin too fast in the corner of my eye
But not at all when staring them in the face.
Maybe I worry about time too much because
I’m aware of being trapped in it
But I can’t see it to get out.
What if
All that was,
Is,
And will be
Is constant?
What if it has all
Already happened
And is happening
Continuously,
Right now,
But each of us is only capable
Of consciously knowing
One spot at a time.
She sat, watching the clock. But she wasn’t really watching at all. She simply gazed ahead With no idea of the time. Surrounded by voices, With no idea what they were saying. She was completely blocked off from the rest of the world. Her body, a brick wall, trapping a secret world inside of her.…
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