Grey grains of dehydrated sand in
the colossal hourglass slip
like dusty water to the bottom
and glint mockingly at me
as my eyes glare at the calendar.
I went completely, drily numb as I
half-listened to the vibrations of my
phone and the scent of music in the background.
Because her pincers sank into me
and my pincers sank into her
and futures clashed
and this grey sand was gathering
before we could catch up with it.
My shoulders tighten with red pain
from trying to carry this checked weight
uphill for hours whilst the grains
rush to the bottom of the hourglass.
They slip even faster than the invisible tears down my cheeks.
written: Thursday 12th August, 2004, 7:03pm.
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