A toxic relationship with time (a poem)

Kennedy Bustos, Staff Writer

Time warps

and wraps

around my body,

gripping my neck

and catching my breath

with reckless cruelty.

 

Time slides

and slithers

down my spine,

curling its way

around my hips

and my lips

like an intimate embrace.

 

Time floods

and feasts on

my state of mind…

But I’ll be fine,

right?

Right?

 

Time creeps 

and crawls,

and brags

and brawls,

and swears it didn’t mean it.

But I can’t lie,

I sigh, I cry.

Oh, time,

if I could beat it.

 

Time, you beautiful catastrophe—

you illustrious monstrosity.

You have us in the palm

of your perpetually ticking hands.

And we pretend to be satisfied,

masqueraded in closed eyes and open grins:

content when we’re not restless,

restless when we’re not content.

 

Time, oh time, 

I can’t promise I’ll never get bored of you,

but I promise I’ll always want more of you.

 

And time, I’m chasing you,

I’ve been chasing you for ages, 

but I can’t catch up.

My lungs fill with fire,

and my legs begin to freeze…

and I know I should scream for help,

I know,

I know,

trust me, I know.

But the only words that escape me are

“Wait.”

“Wait!”

“Please, wait!”

 

Oh time, 

I’m mystified by your every minute;

captivated by your cerebral silence;

enchanted by your endless mystery.

 

Time, oh time, my darling time—

there is beauty in your cruelty,

and cruelty in your beauty.

Your paradoxical presence

motivates us, debilitates us.

All.

At. 

Once.

 

It could be better, it could be worse.

Some moments a blessing, 

some moments a curse.

But if you dared to disappear,

I’d be at my wits’ end.

Time…

dear time, 

what would I do without you?