I lived Century In A Day

living in borrowed 
time
i enjoyed the clock that 
ticked
every time i blinked
there’s a fast track
that 
accepts the bastard
and 
keeps him
in
tact.
i lived 
a
century
in a
millisecond
and enjoyed 
every 
distorted 
moment 
in it

Timestamp

there are instances in life where time can just.. pause.
leaving “ample” amount of time for reflection. 
this poem won’t have the clever wordplay. 
more of how time is viewed. 
oddly,
time really is what it is.
time.
a clock covering each hand and second and minute.
but we don’t really understand the meaning of space in a stopwatch.
often taking time for granted.
not hearing its side of the story.
because quite frankly,
time doesn’t get to speak for itself. 
it’s job is so clear yet the harshest of them all.
leaving everyone behind at the end of the bus. 
i love we often forget who time really is. 
it’s an amazing,
yet,
selfish being.
selfish in the eyes of some id say.
me personally,
i think time is misunderstood at times.
we realize that time passes as we’re living.
strolling by neighborhood as we wave at it’s existence.
but,
not waving back.
odd,
but amazing,
i think as grow with time,
we all learn the love for it.
i appreciate the moments where it feels infinite in the sense reliving.
over and over
our memories play in the vhs we call our brain. 
but time was always leave his mind on table for his to examine.
even when the mailman runs out of stamps,
time persisted with the daily newspaper for each neighbor.

-Devon Riddick