Flowing through a river, down the vein and up the arm, inside the neck, up to the brain,
A clogged pore the size of a lump that obstructs justice
A pause and a glitch inside a perfect system meant to be broken
A flawless thought dreading existence
Mindfulness beyond fulness to the brink of explosion
Don't look back, look no further, stay still and in the now
But now is not the time
The time is tomorrow, what is the time, he asks
Sometime o'clock spinning around the gears
The years, gone and coming in full speed
Slapping the face, hitting the floor, weaving a basket of tears
Dripping through the ceiling, forming a puddle under the pillow
Sinking deeper, goose feathers, warm leather
Reaching the door only to find the window to the soul
Peeking in the darkness blindly but no eyes are present
A blank stare, a face made of clay
Morphing, shaping, slithering like a snake
What was I thinking
An extra large ice cube blocking the way
Cold and perfect like a clog in the drain.
Stay now and be silent
It's that time of day.