Somewhere between deathly bored and making peace with life, I find myself oscillating with all the zeal of a dead earthworm.
Clocks tend to make a lot more tick tick noise than my existential dread would like to hear.
Each expired second that comes with a reproachful tock filled by an irked tick that lays waste to another minute.
My skies full of conceptual skeletons left behind by abstract demise of time gone by, the very air I breathe a constant reminder of all that's gone past never to return, no matter how zealously I might want it.
Sigh to end all sighs.
Hearts
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