I have so much I’m s’posed to do within
a day, within an hour, within a week, a minute
too. I just need to do so much each day,
like get through work and clean things up
a bit, as any adult does. Yet for me, this seems
impossible, a day’s tasks can take three weeks for me.

If I could tell you what time felt like, grains of sand just slipping,
maybe then you’d understand. Maybe you wouldn’t blame me.

In ten minutes it’s been an hour, in 20 it’s
been two, a single thing that matters so much,
and what can I do? I could just let it happen, oh,
it would be so much easier. Let dust to dust
instead of old age and fury run this room,
this studio apartment. If only I could pause a moment
hold it in this time, folded in on itself, unaging and
get things done as expected of me.

If I could tell you what time felt like, grains of sand just slipping,
maybe then you’d understand. Maybe you wouldn’t blame me.

My life’s a blip, I know that well, and what
blips can do I cannot tell you. There’s no
solution, no easy fix, and not only am I stuck like this,
but everyone else moves on so easy as if
blips could cause some major change. Their blips
seem fuller than mine, less transient. Less empty.

If I could tell you what time felt like, grains of sand just slipping,
maybe then you’d understand. Maybe you wouldn’t blame me.