Best Coagulating Poems

The seconds drift into minutes,
cascade into hours.
Relativity floats subtly past
and pools around perspective’s
esophagus.
Waiting is the fierce tick
of a sequestered heart.
Tracking time,
by counting blood cells sailing
through a clotting current.
Labored lungs grasp at
tiny red buoys,
flagged with markers of 
understanding.
It’s become harder to
comprehend the notes I left 
myself....

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