I get frustrated with time spent with friends I could care less about. It must be punishment for an irrevocable sin I have forgotten over the years. Karma strikes at dawn ripping me from bed, from legs intertwined after a nightly cause and effect of adoration. There is no hoarding, no trickling of seconds into the new sun. There is only residue left on time piece. A reminder of the inescapable labrinth where my mind loses direction.