what is this life that i flit through?
year by year.
month by month.
week by week.
day by day.
hour by hour.
minute by minute.
second by second.
i feel i'm merely just passing the time.
passing by,
passing through.
the individuals of time flow past me,
as though time,
is a deconstructed reality.
because one moment is always the next,
seemingly leaving me reaching towards something inevitable,
and sometimes it can't seem to come soon enough.