Emerald jealous eyes, over the dominion of the clock;
Unshackled by the chains of authority, for who can
Predict the beginning of time or the path it shall traverse?
Time, the ultimate liberator of existence, flows like water,
Shapeless yet potent, wielding an influence that touches
Every soul.

Time, the most cunning of thieves, robs any idea
Of having more time. It slips through fingers
Like sand, giving short nights; relentless demands
Of an overbearing master, giving us longer days.

Follow That
The Fake God casts his spell
He holds the reps in his gaze
They know he has something
A certain type of quality
An ability to do things
To get results and sales
Nobody managed to emulate this
Not his lapdog with a higher position than chair
There’s something about the Fake God
He said his boss and another manager
All with backgrounds in sales
Had different energy are just different
That’s what two decades in sales does
How many of the reps will equal that?

i saw the master
in my mind
it was me

To a master,
There are only slaves.
To a lord,
There are only subjects.
To a king,
But vassals.
To a boss,
Are only subordinates.
Yet, in reliance
Who rules who?

How scary it is-
To realize
None of this is truly mine.
Not these things,
Not this life.

Time is my master,
She owns it all.
I cannot keep any of it.

Her master towers over her with his hefty might.
His eyes pierce through the shadows.
Commanding and bold, he startles her.
However, she capitulates to his aura.

She succumbs to his will, a willing slave.
Confined by his power, she cannot behave.
His words are tender, his touch like a feather,
she pines for his control, her soul in his hand.

In the dungeon of rapture, they explore their appetite.
Her master, like a bat, hovers over the dim light.
Sweeps her with his wings to a waltz of submission.
And takes her to the ride of darkness and delight.

A coating of fear decorates her face.
He surprises her with acts that leave her afraid.
She is hesitant to continue her master’s calling.
But her body is dissimilar, peachy, and pulsating.

Her master takes her on a trip of ****** events.
Where she gasps with fright, moans with pain,
and pleasures herself to the sound of the rain.
He takes what he wants; she surrenders it all.

He puts her in her place with words of degradation.
Then showers her with warmth and affection.
Her master kisses her, just like aftercare.
In each other’s arms they find solace in times of despair.

dad original
one master of who i be
sorry i am free