A lethargic frustration
has taken up residence
somewhere between
logic and clarity.
She's a devil;
a tantalizing waif.
Powerless but relentless
in her horrid little mission.
Pulling and clawing
at all that is good;
drawing curtains to
inhibit the light.
**** her
and her intrusion.
She has dabbled in
the dark long enough.
Its time.
She was never welcome anyway!

We wear Time like the finest of silks;
She lines our bodies in wrinkles and
Folds. Fashions fade over the years,
But beauty has always been in the
Stories she tells - sketched on the
Canvas of our skin.