Perception of time is warped
Three months are three years
Ghosts hiding in the entrails of magnetic bits
Live in the glass and metal brick in my pocket
A few gestures and I can hear her voice
Just like it used to be
Bright and shining
Hopeful and patient
Eager for me to call back
Three months are three days
Perception of time is warped
In truth it’s eleven months now
Two lines intersect in the sand
At the cross hairs burns a buried ember
That fire can’t burn out
Not until high tide
That won’t happen for years
Perception of time is warped
Hope and rage and lust are just curved glass
Look through and watch the calendar bend
No more gridlock
Consult the rectangle again
Let it decode the messages
Hear the voice again
Let it lay waste to temporal barriers
Fight entropy kicking and screaming
You want her to know what you are thinking
Perception of distance is warped
Keep walking
Step on the ember
Let it burn your foot
Feel the heat
Let it consume you
Few are lucky enough to understand
Time and space
It isn’t endless but it is malleable
So fight the void
Stoke the fire, let its tongues lick your face
Reach in and grab it with all you have
She burns too bright for any of us
She’ll burn readily if near isn’t too far
But I will gladly dive into that eruption when the day comes
Perception of time is warped
