I suppose
to you
I've become
something of a joke
so pardon me 
if my punchline is showing
avert your eyes.

Touché

Irrelevant
Are the names
Are the ages
Is the time
Is the year. 

Unessesary 
To keep track
Each pulsing minute
Is it's own
Why do we insist upon 
Owning it?

We people
Why not content?
With our noses
With our thighs

Why must everything
Change?
When isn't change
What we fear most?

Set upon change for our bodies
Determined to withhold
Our futures. 

The whitty twists
Of reality.