The Concept of Time

Through rose colored glasses
you watched me walk
walking on stained glass

Glossy figments slicing me open
open like fragments
open like fractals
open like fractions

Open, open, are you
open still?

Stillness is deafening
when chaos colored
your original home

Home? A home with
two eyes and a soul
is hard to imagine

Images of trouble
the owl inside me seeks
seeking torment sometimes
where there is none

None the wiser
numb the fire
concrete on ether

Either you haunt me
or you don’t
Either you’ll hurt me
or you won’t

Me, me, me
Me and my version
of what could have been

Been walking backward
on bloodstained glass
back to myself, back to mend
my catastrophizing thoughts

back to investigate the corpse
of clock hands on my spine
back to reexamine the root cause
at the concept of time

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