Woke up from my sleep
I have lost another spring
I am over
Time is not
The checkered couch is opened wide
Our hero gathers fat
Stuffed and sloth, he lies there, idle
Trapped by screens and internets
Years of sagging into visions
Crippled in the sense of practice
Smug by pseudo facts
Nestled in the always ceasing future
“Don’t you mind those weary eyes
It’s just time passing by
A day alone will surly die
Yet we got lots to live our lives”
Our skin will soon creased
But “Hey it’s OK”
We still have lots of time to waist
Ever since the primal waking hour
I had tried to justify my own existence
I am grieving for a hunger that would never rest
I hear the beating of a clock within my chest
Tick tock tick tock
Who will stop a running clock?
Spinning hands are spinning knives
That chisel in my face, new lines
The hunting ghost of yesterday
Seeks revenge through circling needles
I am repressed to do as the saying
Of a complex naked god
The higher windows always screaming
Always squeaking their command
You got to do as told
You got to do as told
I watch the hourglass refilled
But my chapter ends and folds
I am over – time is not
Dulled by the looming sunset
Dazzled by the shiny gold
Who will bore the scorch of meaning?
And who will die with nothing to be told about?
I am over, time is not.
“For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten.
“As well their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun.”