It’s intrinsic,
Chaotically living life in transit,
Dystopian swing shift watch the hours count down is all you can manage.
A metronome rhythm rattling then clicking the only sound.
Grains sliding then slipping,
Crumbling, dividing then quickening.
Grit in the eyes where bleary sand sticks,
Blending euphoria to exhaustion is one nasty mix.
Sure–change glued in amber,
Stuck like a beetle or bug,
Mosquito frozen solid while filled up on blood.
That locus of focus shifted heavily to stone,
Life essence trapped then mired,
In the middle of all while forever alone.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 