#timepasses
Not once have I ever questioned
Why Humpty Dumpty sat on
A wall.
Not once did I ever question
The size of his hat.
Time is just one of those things
Easily hard working,
No matter how many times you
Yell out wait,
It just walks on.
No matter how much you care,
No matter how much you crave
It’s touch.
If you’re not careful, it’ll pass you by.
Not once have I thought about
The answers to any of these questions.
It’s quite painful,
To love someone risking the chance
They might not love you back.
It’s quite painful,
To teeter totter on a wall.
Even more fearful knowing
That you might fall.
But anything is better than
Walking on eggshells
Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 12:30 AM UTC
There’s still time.
Despite it all, there’s
time.
Things I thought
I’d someday do, I
did.
Gave up on
forgotten goals. But,
time.
Time pursued
me and called me. I
heard.
There’s still time!
I’m always here! Do
it!
I did it.
Without thinking, life
lived.
I did things
I gave up on, in
time.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 10:42 PM UTC
The day sits waiting in it's pear-shaped
room, one of the vacant eyed occupants of other, older,
occupied chairs.
The day crosses it's knees, one leg
over the other as a white flag,
resignation.
The day wants it's peace,
it fought the world wars, caught it's reflection aged,
tripped over itself
calling itself out, a
tripwire
unravelled.
This day knows it won't live tomorrow,
knows it's wanted blind and poor, so waits
waits
in a waiting room,
wasting the room's air in an exchange of
silent
blows.
This day is counting down it's losses, putting
all of it's seconds in a jam jar.
And there are screams never externalised, legs never uncrossed,
paperweights weighing less than those they push to the floor, and
this day is
screaming,
this day is
flailing
from the inside out in the form of folded linen,
inconspicuous on a plastic chair.
This day holds
up the moon,
hears it's laughter and falls through the cracks
in the tide.
His knuckles aren't
connected to his fingertips and
shoulders feet apart
from the spine,
the spine crossing one leg over the other in a pear-shaped room
with fingertips tapping at themselves, writhing into an hourglass formation.
This day is holding
up the walls.
Count this day lost when your eyes skip it, miss it, dance past it
in a waiting room.
Count this day screaming
when you wake up tomorrow.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
Change is inevitable
They say
But this is questionable
I dare say
Past, present, future
had, is, might
a certain change of words
yes you will see
In past there exists an -ed
Add this and it'll be history
The present presents us with -ing
Add this and it'll be a present thing
To the future that is a mystery
You need to add a certain uncertainty
Might, Could, Would it can be
But change is not for me
The past, the present, the future
Is just but mere words for me
I have something that'll never change for sure
Now I will tell you
I have not loved
I do not love
I will not love
Anyone but you
And this was
this is
this will
Always be true
I have loved you
I love you
and I won't let a concept of mystery change that
for the future is just a change in time
And my love for you is already defined
My love is not a function of time
So it will never changed by times
So my love will always be for you
past, present, future participle might change
but still it will always be you
I tell you that's true
I told you
I am telling you
I will tell you
I love you
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC