Watch the specks of time as they fall in line.
A sheet of sound drops in an army of fine
Seconds that cannot be reversed too late.
Now watch them huddle in a pool of fate.

Watch hours ache with all your fond mistakes
That pool as wool, erode your guilty eyes
Sip on the decadence of days like lakes
As if you could ever quench your disguise

Your need for the illusion of months which
Slip away divided and processed by
The knife you take to water, needle, stitch,
Through the rain, catching droplets that won’t conform.

How will you reconcile the drops with days?
With their united power to erase…

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