What Makes Me Tick...And Sometimes Tock

Time is unforgiving, slipping between small weak fingers. No one can grasp or try to escape it. It is seemingly uncontrollable and unpredictable. The movement of life. The stillness of death. Both elements of the never changing time. For everyone time is the enemy. Killing us as it progress forwards, or backwards, true direction known. It mocks me. Laughing through ticks, tocks and a variety of whistles and screaming alarms. It mocks me. Glaring at me smugly with its neon colored numbers and circles. You can’t overpower time unless you overpower yourself. Winning is impossible. Losing is fate. Time is a tease. The good never lasting, the bad drawn out. Some have tried the fighting art of managing time. Without noticing the loss of time and life in trying to manage it. You lose. Time like a snake seeking out movement in a field. Keep completely still and remain unnoticed. The movement of life. The stillness of death. I grow weary of movement, and time prevents rest. I want to escape time.





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