Poetry of a Conlanger

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Tear the River

Time is a river.
Flowing smoothly, evenly, calmly
Before the rains, now
It rushes, thunders, stampedes,
And I can do nothing
But breathe as
I am tumbled through the
Demanding current.

Yet when even breathing becomes too much,
I can sleep,
Only to have my peaceful, even thoughtlessness
Sharply interrupted by
A screeching alarm clock.

How dare it destroy my only timeless minutes!

rip the cord out, hurl it across the room

break down sobbing.


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