Master Time

Rough copy of something that came to mind. Unedited and unfinished.

This disease, it has undertaken and cast its branches through my veins;

It playfully and seductively dances around the tendons of my hands while I attempt to grasp a blanket and smother myself.

I am able to physically touch this fabric;

I am unable to actually grasp the halcyon inner touch that I have been so desperately craving since the age of 14.

Perception distorts reality, and perception misinterprets feeling. Have you ever really been fully and completely surrounded in the softest kind of peace you can imagine? Have you been able to stop time in his tracks and say ‘please, let me have this one moment. Let me have this fraction of a second to feel. I need to feel something true, something raw, something real, and something concrete.’

If time were a man, he would be six feet tall. He would be approaching older age at about 59. He would be clothed in costly business attire and speak with a husky monotone speak. His words would be irresistibly crafted, with such a flow and underlying meaning that could never be detected in everyday life as time passes. He would have wide brimmed black glasses and a courageous smile to gloss and polish over the deceit that rests beneath his façade.

Time would not allow a gander of too long, no. Time is constantly moving and gliding through the walls and stairways. Time is always looking for the next victim. Time is smooth and slippery, he is impossible to catch.

If I could lock time within a sensory deprivation tank, I would ask him to open himself and try to feel. That is where I am right now, time.

Time is the ideal business man, he is attractive and persuasive. He is the corporation and he is the cult. If one was lucky enough to restrain time where he stood, one would soon come to realize that time would rot away before their very eyes. The time we all know and love who hurries along and fails to embrace moments would be faced with silence.

His once seductive tone is no longer able to pretty up the business he is selling. His pearly whites begin to decay from the inside out and fall before him. Who can win without a smile, right? The fibres of his suit tangle and form knots. Gravity slinks away into the darkness, allowing for the knots to furiously take on a mind of their own.

Time was unable to stop himself from moving. His skin had rotted and fallen clean from the bone all within a single second.

Time would not stop for a single person, time would not stop for anyone. Time is selfish and restless. Time believes he has infinite jobs to do.

I only asked for a fraction, Time. 

Time runs through my veins, and he has been on a mission since I reached the age of 14. Age 14 is when life became a reality and the fantasy began to fade. Life is not endless and the possibilities placed before my eyes were limited. Time has nested himself in every particle of my blood and the air that surrounds my soul. I have been his project and experiment.

By asking for him to stop, I would become him. I would examine and observe. I would predict and laugh about the approaching outcome. I am not interested in being a part of Time’s game anymore, and want out.

Take me off your list and allow me to be free. 

Reviews

[Kinsey]

I LOVE THIS. Time is a tricky beast.