Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
Minutes are counted in sneezes and coughs
Hours in trips to the bathroom and mealtimes
Weeks are the time between sunday brunch and sunday brunch
I could ask the sun what he thinks of time,
But he just sits there smirking
Spinning in aimless circles while the clouds dance around him
Someone says something
Someone laughs
Someone else farts
The same person laughs again
Has a few minutes passed or an hour?
How's the weather someone asks
70 degrees inside and dry,
The flurescent light flickers like a dead moon
Sometimes i go outside and watch the planes take off and land
Their large grey girth heaving in and out of the sky,
Like rhinos who know where they're going.
Can I do this for an additional 6 months?
matt d mattson
Written by
matt d mattson  Denver, CO
(Denver, CO)   
181
   Fawn and sky-blue
Please log in to view and add comments on poems