When I had a job I felt
Like I was always grasping
For time, any time that I
Could pull towards me
Like air bubbles drifting away
From deflating lungs deep
Under thrashing waves
I don't know what I wanted to
Do with it I just know that I
Had to pull it towards me

Now all I have is time
It is a comforting and alarming
Concept

Now, what is the excuse?
Where is your novel?
Why aren't you in shape?
Why haven't you gotten your flu shot?
Why isn't the house clean?
What's your purpose?

Meditating on these points
In the syrupy folds of the clocks
Hollow ticking
I find that life is
Boxes to be checked to keep
Everyone else off your back
While you try to figure
Where to even start