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The clock is ticking.
It’s ticking.
And what are you doing?
You are doing nothing.
But guess what
The clock is still ticking.
You can’t freeze time by simply not moving.
You can’t freeze time by doing absolutely nothing.
So how about you get your lazy *** up
And move!
Live!
Do something!
Time isn’t waiting for anybody.
*You are not an exception.
The big fat drops came falling down
A soaking my hair
my shirt and bare arms

Shoes splashed in the forming puddles
seeping in to my feet

Awareness of each drop
willing every splash to become absorbed into my skin

I could have stood in the rain for hours
even as the drop turned into a torrent

Just stood there
being a part of the rain

becoming no one,
just an object between the clouds above and the ground below

Accepting the drops
as they ran down around me
I should have ran outside on my own
Once sitting side by side
in a room of doom
laughing at the mistakes of others
groaning at the cheesy jokes

Full of smiles from inside jokes
a constant want to talk
The feeling of friendship I've been missing

No longer
It's funny how people you thought mattered can leave so quickly
My watch whispers faithfully the turning of the universe
The trees breathe in static silence outside my window
The wind caressing their bodies, like a cold serpent
Their red leaves falling like tears

Humanity sleeps, waiting for the morning
Waiting for the fresh, the new, the different
Waiting for their prospects of rebirth to be realised
Waiting for the sun to bleed colours of crimson and coral over the silent sky

But nothing ever changes

The cycle repeats itself
Agony is poured down Earth’s open wound
Like acid
Melting away at what we once cherished

When will it end?
When the last creature cries for their fallen mother?
When the last tree falls from the vicious storm?
When the last scream echoes through the barren wasteland that we created?

The sun anxiously peers over the horizon
Humanity exploits the new day

Work
Play
Live
Die

The rhythm of the universe beats like the breath of trees
The evanescence of life pulses like the veins of the universe
Gone in a moment
Gone

But not forever
Tools heavy in hands weak from
Weekend's fill of laughter,
Beer and barbeque.

Sun in eyes narrow from
Sleep. Traffic in ears spoiled
With countryside serenity.

Not even eight am, and I'm
Bleeding from open joints on fingers
That left their gloves somewhere

Clever on Friday. Drops of myself
Form little red rings in the chemical
Rainbows of puddle beneath.

It is my passion; not my job
To play with words in the ways of
Poet. To drop a few lines instead.

I am a man of heavy duty action, the
Kind that jackhammers concrete to
Dust, a thousand demolishing words.

My work is so far from poetry that
I should get changed in the phone
Booth outside the barracks, but

For now my mind is as narrow,
My imagination as shallow as this
Hole that I'm paid to dig.
Like this if you see it.
I know I can do this on any post;
but self-selection bias is indeed a variable.
On my every birthday
I give my mother
Flowers.
oh god how it hurts to ignore the one you love
how it takes every bit of energy left inside you to prevent your fingers from hitting
that familiar keyboard and responding in the way muscle memory has grown to know
it hurts because i want you to care but i know if i do not show caring you will stop
and that scares me
but what scares me more is another type of pain i feel
because it also hurts when you mention her and i see her
it hurts when you two are together and the way you smile around her
it hurts the way her name pours off your tongue like the sweetest honey
and now im hurting myself to stop hurting myself
i am deliberately preventing myself from taking in what i felt like i needed
and that hurts
not the most coherent im just a little down
I can be an angry man.
Dead things that won't do as I wish
Tend to break.

Leaving behind a wake of
Fractured drywall and
Nervous cats,
Band-aided knuckles and
Bared bone,
I scare others. Hurt myself.

It's a family curse.
Our men are fiercely fuelled, have
Little patience for slow movers,
Rude tones, spite.
Grenades of muscle and noise
That explode in the faces of
Disrespect, then stand
Alone in craters
And regret.

Thank the gods we love with the same
Intensity.
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