PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Time.

When the last thing you have left finally falls away, even time will seem meaningless. 

It’s like in movies, the hero’s going to grab the thing, and the slow-mo starts and the music gets really intense, or it drops out entirely, and you’re like, “oh no! Will he make it!?” and then he does.

But in real life, you miss sometimes.

And then it’s like the slow-mo never ends.

You just fall and fall, confused and scared, racing slowly for the inevitable ground.

Time is meaningless, just an arbitrary movement of things too big to understand while you stare at empty skies and wish that your own time was up.

At least when it’s over, you don’t have to do it again.

I like it that people think there’s an afterlife.

It makes me feel… well, it makes me feel something. It’s like watching a kid on a bike. They’re just having a great time. The idea that this could go on forever is intoxicating to them. Hell yeah! Round two!

I didn’t used to feel like this, tragic and waifish. I used to have fun. And then I got got.

Something rushed out of me and it never recovered.

I don’t know what happened, exactly, or if it was just this amalgam of bad things.

Just, I keep waking up in this state of misery. No dreams, no ambitions, no prospects.

And I don’t even know if I want to change that.

I don’t know if I even want to go back to how I used to be, if I could.

Time is an illusion, but it’s made out of real things.

Kind of like yourself.