Palindrome

Odd, our relationship. Who am I to know what normal is, I hear *that voice*, a reminder, an alarm, beating in my ear-what I am not. Those lips have yet to give me the gift of what I have yet to hear- you are not *that voice.* This day, tomorrow, a mechanical marble lost amongst all those just alike whom are all too familiar with today. Time - so much time. Gone. So much time. Empty. So much time- lost to chasing a moment that has no time for this. Yet- I wait, for time, like a child standing outside the window of a candy store- these eyes piercing the Sign. Closed Now, but it will be Open soon, I know it will! right? Pockets full of ignorance, my eyes blind by want, my heart naive- pleasure dependent upon a taste- And like that of time- a taste dissolved, a taste no more. And there I stand, Mechanical. Alone with that Sign, a Palindrome.