Time after time I find myself within over lapping paradoxes, which most do.
The past
              The now
                                                     The future

What distinguishes the duration of each? How do we know tomorrow is indefinitely tomorrow.
Time is vaguely defined yet daunts our very existent.  Time comes in thousands of forms and is applied in immeasurable theories.  Philosophers and scientist believe they have it figured out. Bringing ‘enlightened’ books and articles to sedate the natural benumbed fear and anxiety time itself brings.
Time ends, we know this. But what about life after death? This question is vulnerable. Like time there is no concrete explanation, therefore many use this as a platform of interpretation. Almost as if we all are apart of an improv sitcom… waiting …who can conceptualize the most reliable, relatable, and comprehensive.  Without this stage of influence we would all share a parallel mind. There would be nothing of political parties, nothing of beliefs, and nothing of morals. Time continually constructs who we are. Without this who are we really? Does time consume us or rather support?  Should I follow what the great dalai  says? Am i becoming the eternal slave of time?

STOP

do you see what you’ve done?
Now you…
your self is *lost

What I have to say is meaningless
There is no nitty grit to my story
To my writing
You will get lost and wonder
“What is this poor girl trying to ponder?”

Without spell check I wouldn’t be able to finish this sentence
    So I pretend to be intellectual for self satisfaction
Saying I understand the deeper meaning of life
Because nothing hurts more than being yourself
When all yourself wants to do Is cry

Maybe I should really stick that needle up my arm
To be this person I try so hard to find
Maybe it will be so deep in that vein
That ill finally see that door
     I’ve been begging to come forth

We find with time that male superiority complex is declining in public media. Falling shortly behind the media is the change in government.

You see that countries, governments, even small parties are taking great strides to put women on the same pedestal as men.
But the media is right behind you
You become comfortably reassured by the hypnotic narcosis.
this just in
They declare culture is finally changing.
They report women are becoming equals.
They announce women finally are less ***** and more empowered. But where are these “facts” when I see with my own eyes.
When I hear with my own ears.
The masqueraded violence we try so hard to hide

My poetry *****
along with yours
nothing but a sad story
about how you inescapably feel
in that *moment

I fear your words

Those monotone eyes
Say nothing wise

But

The curve on your lip
And
The grip of your fist
Keep me in fear of what's to come next

If I could go back
And warn her

I would say

Speak out you will not
For your opinions do not matter
Your lips may move
But only for his pleasure
You will see no rainbows
You will hear no angels

You will only *fear

Time
As i write this poem
hours
min utes
se co nd s
are wasted

What could you be doing
what could you be saying
What could you be feeling
Is your last breath being taken?

R