Time, You Ruthless Bastard

I feel the jaws of time clasping my neck
sending ripples of slime and
into my thoughtssssssssssss my thhoughts


I thought I had it all
under control
till motherfucking time stabbed its serrated knife into my face
and twisted

blood splurged
arteries snipped asunder
Time, merciless and cruel;
smashed my skull supple with its copper fist

then as a "fuck you":
pulled a vulgar gesture with its hand,
right in front of my eyes

then turned and thumped away without looking back but i could smell the sick glee
and was left alone
cold and sick
Battered to a pulp - my brain



Written with StackEdit.



from the comfort of the earth
the brightest star in the sky
just a speck of light
easily ignored

but on its surface
i am running
surrounding me bursts of majestic white flames
my bare feet skim across its molten skin

in conceivable view are thousands of miles of white fire
and beyond that a million more
but i am running
with no destination in my mind's eye

from the corner of my eye
the flickering of bursting gas
releasing a ball of hydrogen inferno
a bubble to be exact

but i run
my feet like the beats of a techno track
like the pulse of the living
a monotonous repetition of left, right, left
one foot touches the coal as the other levitates
then the other foot touches the floor and the first rises
gliding through the air like a swallow's heart

my arms share a similar pattern
i am like a marathon runner, only more dislocated
my face is stern with the hardened look
of a man having absolutely no place to be

i am distinctly humbled
even the searing heat can not phase me
for my soul has elevated
to where no physical harm may affect me

but as is the case with all humankind
the mortal part of me conceives a tree in the distance
a little goal for me to reach
a mini aim for my seemingly pointless journey
through a  place i should not be

this tree, it appears near one instant
then further away the next
and it holds the secrets of life
this tree, it is like me
a creature
living and thriving where it should not
its roots firmly planted in lava

this tree, it is only unique in the fact that it is not
but i know that i must reach it
to drink from its wood
to quench my thirst with its sweet sap

there is one catch though
while i am in fact on the star,
there is no tree
it is merely a relief for my nagging conscience
a balm

i will never actually reach the tree
i will not recline on its cool branches
for it is simply not there
but in order to satisfy the yearning that my heart has
i will search for it
with the hope,
or perhaps something more complex than hope,
the sheer confidence,
that i will find it.

facade by day

days slink by
nights become semiamnesiac endeavors
deep above the inner shell
i put on a facade

of being alive

the hands of the clock are all that are real
incongruously give jolt of fear

wake the motherfuck

whenever whenever, whenever I pause


to enjoy life even for a second sometimes
stop to smell the roses
but leave our means of transport our thoughts and lives behind
through this realm unattended

and it gets stolen
by some inconsiderate bastard
and we miss the bus and then, having to walk
to our destination thru thorny meadows and the like
we look back and can not help pondering was it worth stopping?
and what was it like? what the fuck did i like?

it is but in the mind's eye of the beholder, forever - a figment of one individual from seven
seven-ass billion
one mind's eye

Was it worth enjoying life for that brief moment?
Indeed, the ability to master our
given tasks is masked by overwhelming choke of TIME's power
we are left with smaller timeframes to develop
and evolve ourselves

each passing second and the core of what each of us is
we will never know because
time will always suffocate our identities and
rob us of our personalities

no the only real thing i know is death
it is evident in everything
this world brings
people, animals, infrastructures, hopes, dreams,
ideas they all burn up in a shroud of thick flames and die.

But a strong man is one who makes up his own mind about his own mind.
We can only believe what makes sense to us.
We can only follow what we believe in.

We can only make sense of nonsense