Inside a Clockface

Inside the Clockface

It's like time and reality are racing side by side,
Neither gaining speed on the other.
Time is the only way to tell the future and
Time--
Time is the only way we can hold ourselves back.
It can be lost in everything.
Time is a near sighted type of thing, hovering in the back ground between coffee cups made in haste
and undercooked toast dropped when time is confronted face to face.
Yet at the same time, literally,
It's like a trapeze net bringing us to safety.
Catching our falling bodies as we tumble off sloping hill tops and chipped shoulders and the dips of all these meaningless words frothing over at the lips of useless faces.
The words of wasted breath that while spoken only manage to tick off minutes of the clock hands dissolving inside you, griping for each other.
Time is the ideal beneath your steps,
the frail line of a tight rope walker that's so thin you might just hear a snap.
It's what rips our heads out of there resting positing between our shoulders.
The sound of a bell.
The beep of a microwave.
The tight rope is what we live for.
Staying awake always pointing our toes in sync with the turn of a clock handle--which raises its eyebrows as if to ask: you expect me to go any slower?
And we find contentment in struggle or in the bodice of a tightly wired clockface.
Because in between the anorexic lines of a machine doomed only to read us minute by minute day after day--
we see real chaos.
Each minute lost.
None to be gained.
All the clocks in the world weighed down with being late.
It's us who burdens them.
Us who takes this time for granted.
Can't you see the wrists have snapped holding themselves up?
Can't you see the frames are cracked wearing themselves down?
Please stop goes the clock.
But we carry on our way,
Wasting minutes
For each and every day.
Not that we can help it.
This fiddling of time once tamed.
A tricky thing, it all is.
Fighting harder than a simple reality.
Yet it's the only real support of the world, time is.
And without it,
We see that everything
fades away.
Like the soft ticks of a wrist watch before sleep evades.

-s.l

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Any comments or resounding thoughts would be so greatly appreciated if you have TIME--though it is so limited! Thank you!❤️