Time still flies
like a million bucks
slowly
going
down
a leaking drain

like WHOOOOSH! … gone

Soon it'll all
be restored again,
but chances are …

it will find a way

The path to slip out
of my smooth,
caramel-colored
palms once more

No time for
love, but of course
still time
harvested and stored
for hate

Saving it all for backfire

No time
set aside
for peace and
rest

And there's no time
for me to
act the way
I do, by first nature

I'm sorry …

you know,
for not
setting aside
time for you.

I don't know
if there will ever
be another
chance,

I mean
we're toggling
around with
love here, kid.