He told me he could wait
regardless of what he wanted.
promises flew at 60 per minute
from lips and trembling fingers,
falsities billowing out with strain smiles
all because of the clock above his head
a constant ticking, reminding and controlling
as if it were a religion
as if it were his master
Creature of Habit
have you seen your master;
gone to communion today?
remember all you’ve wasted with each breath,
each blink becomes a hash closer to death
but they all claim patience and restraint
pulling against chains not clearly visible
golden lips whispering at 60 per minute
regardless of how they speak, they act;
They claim they could wait