Lately it’s seemed like time no longer flows,
but churns at the pace of molasses. It lazily swirls in bulbous mounds and sticks to the sides. slowly letting thick droplets through that hourglass so often reprimanded for being too quick, and I am left at the end of each infinite day feeling as though I have aged a thousand. I cannot tell if it is the dulling of my mind, so kindly provided by the medication that keeps me on this plane, or simply that time has decided it too needs a break from the rapid pace of life. They say time flies and our lives are over before we know it but why has mine been so tediously slowed so that at the end of each infinite day i feels as though i’ve aged a thousand. There are those who wish for time is move as though it is weighted by the ankles, but in it comes a new flavor of suffering. the taste of disappointment when you wish for sleep so that the next day may come sooner but the sun is still impossibly bright. the bitterness of watching the clock strike each minute and asking “how could it have been such little time?”. Yes, it is a new flavor of suffering that makes each infinite day feel like a thousand….
