I.
your beauty unravels
The naked skeleton i see before me
Makes me want to *****.

There was never a day of honest calculating
Dissection
With the edges of coffee spoons
That would prepare a sample
Of a soulless, walking stick figurine

When you severed your leg
you replaced your arm.
your arm will grow strong
While your arm is already strong.

II.
Just like all of those small details
In all of these old stories
That you probably glanced over
When you were younger,
The yous became used tos
Rites became spite.

And time
time turned us into snakes,
Constrictors and the poisonous variety alike.
Watch your step.

An old world reminder comes in the form of a simple machine.
Never anything complex.
To change would to be
And to be different is deviance

Gradients.
Residuals.

But here they stand unceremoniously
Talking to a mask of plastic,
Persuading with another.
A cut was all it took,
An exchange of a few solitary words,

IIa.
(the clock rolls by as its arms grow weary architectural decisiveness i suppose to preserve time in a twelve by twelve porcelain circular marker a blind judge of swimming and daylight but also drowning it stalls and discontinues indefinitely lazy hands drop)

III.
The next day came.
One day you wake up
Surrounded by strangers
One day you wake up
Alone.

your new solo project awaits.
When it feels like you were so complete
Six days, five nights ago.
Like a beaten child
Or a dog slipping out a door
Or a skilless percussionist
Time always finds a way of running away.

When it's gone, it's gone forever.
No amount of beggin, bartering or stealing
Will ever bring it back.

When you have a clock,

Never frame it

Never ever frame it.

This gives an illusion of controlling
Something you will never control
Something you can never domesticate.

Take your grandfather's watch
And make like Quentin Compson.

If you can't control something
Break it
If you can't break it
**** it.