the more years i clock,
the faster time slips by
‘til my mileage feels close
to ticking past my capability,

and the clock swallows my skin
biting wrinkles into my face
‘til i can’t remember my beginnings:
can only fear my end

just twenty years, but it’s already july
summer scorches sticky smiles
masking questions behind tired eyes
“what am i doing with my life?”