Cut it around the bend,
Eyes focused on the descent of time
A droplet ascertaining life
Dripping with momentous flow
Unadulterated and unimpaired
The form of a will occupies the air
Cut it around the bend,
There is nothing to the descent of time

Covered with unsteady palms
The warmth of these guilty hands
Swelling red from where pain still stays
Marked by the bitter pangs
Of the memories that persist and fight to remain
The feelings that soak in deep as much as they stain
Covered with unsteady palms
There is no warmth in these guilty hands

Streaked and aligned amongst tiles
A redden life will begin to grey
Now parallel to a cold horizon
Intoxicated by yet another day’s
Reminder of priors and those yet to come
Motions kept by the rise and setting of suns
Streaked and aligned amongst tiles
There’s nothing left of life but grey

It’s all over.

© 2014