Ti∞e Doesn't Define The Spirit

Like emotion and color

Time is a lie

It puts into perspective

Death and Life

Black and White

Night and Day

None of which I have experienced

 

Everything is gray

Faded and dulled by the smog in the sky

Motionless and with less emotion than a wooden stick

 

Things change?

Where’s your spare change now?

Silver linings don't help mend broken bones

Fabricated from flinging stones

At those begging for a coin or two

 

Past due rent and past due lives

Time doesn’t fly by when the whole world is going awry

 

Picturesque landscapes can only now be made with modern day machines

But do not forget the flash

And the Click

Click

Click 

Of the tracks and the roaring train covering up the Clack

Clack

Clack

Of heels replacing claws

And red reforming smog

No longer a predator of nature

But a victim of prey

 

Beauty is pain? 

You don’t know the half of it

When beauty is taken for granted

And you’re pushed into the granite

And feel the grains against your face like cutting lace

 

How can you feel the light of the moon when your skin is made of plastic?

 

The moon? 

What about the buzzing fluorescents, blinding like what I imagine the burning sun to be… 

Or the touch of these soulless hands like the sting of a knife pushing under my cold, dead skin?

 

I used to be more than this

I used to be a legend

A myth

A something more than drowning skies and collapsed lungs

Split lips and tissue paper tongue

More than a coating of metal and gears shifting until they rust and break

Like everything else on this goddamned Earth

 

In your perspective, that’s all I am, and all I ever will be

But in my perspective, Time does not define me

It sways and begs me to stay within the present

As if it were wrapped up and placed in the falling snow

(Or is that soot?)

A pretty bow waiting to be torn apart

Like some artificial heart, bleeding

Yet only turning red to an oily black

 

But I am not of this era

Not defined by this time and place

I cannot be erased from history and our history will not be erased

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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