Somehow, time always finds a way to seem smaller when you're counting it in reverse. And the days fall short of the hours, as the hours do the minutes, as the minutes do the seconds, and as I do along side the rate of my heart beat, when your eyes meet mine. And in this moment, when the hands on my watch are moving counter clockwise, you can see right through me. And beyond whatever this is that I am existent in, is more than these bones were designed for. The hands on the clock are stuck in the shape of a question mark and they weren't programmed to sing their song when midnight arrives. I wasn't programmed to pace myself for when midnight arrived. By now the time has disguised itself as a wizard of a slow form of magic, kissing my lips, and making promises for tomorrow although tomorrow had come and gone. And when I asked how I knew when it was time to part I heard time tell me that I could stay, as long as I wished. And so I wished I could stay for a lifetime, until the sun collided with my heart and shot me into a new set of skin to dwell in until the next time. Nevertheless the hands on the clock stretched their limbs up and across to make love to the numbers they had left behind temporarily. Here, I was served my biggest fear on a silver platter and told to run as fast as I could. Time was casting spells behind my back and I fell into its curse. Time has forgotten my name and I am trying to find the will to unforget his. Perhaps I met time in his darkest hour and it positioned it's shadows around its closest victim. Or perhaps time has never been on my side.