Blood As My Ink

Time Will Tell

Some days I wish I didn't know

A clock clucks impatiently

Over my shoulder, face hidden behind hands.

He's a slick angel who promises

To make me aware,

More frugal, more comfortable

Checking my pulse.

But since we shook palms,

I've forgotten to laugh.

Instead, I saunter

Like a sloth,

Wandering

Along sidewalks and byways.

Now I'd rather

Save my energy and memories

For the perfect moment to relish.

Tonight I found the sweets

I tucked in a sealed jar long ago.

Even through the crack along its side

I have no clue what flavor they are.

Part of me hopes for cinnamon,

To feel a bite in my throat

To prove I'm awake.

Perhaps, if I'm lucky,

They're bubblegum, and I'll finally remember

The breaths I wasted in fantastic

Delirium, back when I didn't know

Night until I realized there was no sun.

Just five more minutes,

Or a thousand hundred seconds

Before I'll reach in the jar.

Enough time to see if I feel pain, or if I'll shudder,

Or if I'll consider what might happen,

If I'll regret reaching back.

Perhaps there are days better left fed to a clock,

But perhaps there are times

When being a little paranoid

But alive

Is better than feeling a ravenous hunger,

Just so I'll try swallowing a little more sun.