it’s 12 minutes to 6 as I write this
12 minutes to 6 on what day?
I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to say
All I know for certain is of this state of bliss
That arises with the sun when the darkness
That plagues my consciousness
Has finally passed

When the rats who’ve made their nest
Deep inside my mind, eating away
At my last grasp of sanity
Cease their feast for a few hours to digest

When the fear of tomorrow is no longer holds reasoning
As tomorrow is the present and somehow
I’m still breathing

It’s now 7 minutes to six as i consider the theory
of time and it’s relevance
As I question it’s importance in my diary
And whether I need to know the date or time
In which I am writing this nonsense
Whether I should be concerned about my disconnect from society
When all that matters is that my worries disappear in the morning