Your bones
Cling still
To that wall.

A forever scene
Of your
Last stand.

The colour of time.
A pale reminder

That you tried

To climb higher
Than anyone

Is allowed.


Clock Watching

And they spin faster.
Hands are wrung.
Worn through
Worries and
Joys alike. An
March repeating
Itself all the
World over.
Different stages
End the same.
Because the spinning
Won’t ever slow.
And only stops

Tethered to Time

The music is from
Another time.
One which i am not
Allowed to know.
Yet believe that
It was so much more
Beautiful than this,
Which i find
Myself tethered to,
Hearing a distant voice
Trapped in the nowhere,
Luring me desperately
Backward to something,
I am not allowed
To ever know.