a few seconds left
a few minutes
a few hours
a few days

i'm spinning in circles,
twirling the sky,
and the dizziness decreases.

every second hand's tick echoes infinitely
echo echo
a glance, a hand-wring
I pick my nails.

Time
the departure and arrival of the present
Evolution of the future into the past.
          The grass is growing
          The surroundings groan
while i try to open my eyes
    tense with
    anticipation
    excitation

gas tank almost empty
big capital e's have never looked so attractive

Now, the doors will be unlocked,
And ripped off
And crunched, crushed,
And incinerated, obliterated.
Oh,
what a refreshing breeze
smells like sunflowers,
pomegranates,
and honey.

Let's neglect new barriers.

  I can see
the pores of time.
I'm the future
a crane, an eagle
an equal

The doorknob's key is in my hand,
An axe in the other.

All those years
of inescapable limitation to
the view from a windowsill,
they will soon be the senile, wrinkled remains
of tears, of fears, of jeers.

Soon, I will soar
Escape this world of sore
Existence at the core
Of the personalities who tore
At the pained cultivation of my soul,
Who decided it was best to close my doors,
I know, I swear, these shackles, held in the hands of unmuffled cackles,
Will disintegrate in nothing
but dust and flies to blind their eyes,
Keeping them, from once again,
Binding me into void oblivion,
I am blinded by triumphant tears,
They'll evaporate eventually,
Leaving behind puffed and swollen emotional Glory.