Sometimes,
for a moment,
time escapes me.
When I am alone at night
With the tv on
A forkful of noodles in an empty hand
Where has all the time gone?
When did I become unable
To keep track of the ticking clock?
flashing in front of me
memories of a distant vibrancy
I once held in my palm
Now ,
[without hesitation]
the remote control
A loosely clasped fist.
An empty dish
And a burnt out awareness of time.
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 10:31 PM UTC
Sometimes,
for a moment,
time escapes me.
When I am alone at night
With the tv on
A forkful of noodles in an empty hand
Where has all the time gone?
When did I become unable
To keep track of the ticking clock?
flashing in front of me
memories of a distant vibrancy
I once held in my palm
Now ,
[without hesitation]
the remote control
A loosely clasped fist.
An empty dish
And a burnt out awareness of time.