Borrowed Time

the sitting in school angry at the teachers because the thought is that they are somehow responsible for the passage of time not spent doing the things that one feels defines their existence, the time restrained by those who raise one---those who expend finance, energy & emotion to ensure one’s survival, the creeping in of the work force---once thought to provide everything (when one wasn’t a part of the machine) & now realized to offer nothing of any real substantial longstanding value, only scraps from the table (a table that gets pulled away inch by inch, year by year, quicker & quicker) & though one might have been downright horrendous when it came to math, the addition here is relatively simple. 0 + 0 = 0. comes a times when the ticking of the clock isn’t terrifying as it was in youth but instead it brings with it the notion that every heartbeat is one closer to the end, rather than some sort of indication of how much there is to be done, how many tasks need to be accomplished because it will bring one to some kind of certain success or feeling of fulfillment. all time is borrowed, taken from the pool of unrenewable resource, with waves that fluctuate of their own accord, with no rhyme, no reason & no apologies.