Oh how of no use to us now
The clock and calendar - the pretenders
They measure nothingness
Not even air, not even the passing days
They measure boredom, nihilism
Accounting for one's time for
The inevitable implosion into emptiness
Oh how of no use to us now
That which measures our worth - in time
When we hang in the precipice
And the abyss yawns ever more deeply,
Ever more impatient
Oh how of no use to us now
This tyrannical imagination, when we
Now measure the days passing
By the times we have sighed in relief