Time

Time drips on my vacant eyes like candle wax covering my fleeting humanity... I ignore the loneliness and drudge on, cracking the thin plywood of my existence; hovering like a misplaced ghost, toasting with a raised, rusty cup to all my screaming inadequacies... I slip into the flawed, racing night with the precision of a surgeon, and as aimless as a lost sailor in a starless sky... The wrenching pain wraps me like a dirty blanket. Regrets plague me with a relentlessness of a dripping faucet. The gray Sunday drifts by like a paper boat on a still lake. I look to the passing clock, which mocks me openly. I listen to the same song over and over; trying to catch some new meaning within its cryptic lyrics, but to no avail. I plunge into uncertainty like a stone in a frost-covered pond in February. My fiendish mistakes chase me like rabid wolves in the night. And time passively moves on. There is no reprieve or pause. It simply moves along, unabated in its constant march... And in its wake it leaves only bones, dust, and legacies...