Hourglass and Sand

I’m tryin not to
I swear that I’m really trying not to
I’m tryin’ not to write about you,

but hot damn it’s difficult
when you do these simple human things that you do,
your satisfaction in sneezing for one, plain amuses me to no end,
and yes, to answer your blatant question, your nose may be snotty,
but it’s wonderfully soft and curved in such a way that
I cannot deny that there is a God
when I see how it breaks the space of your pathways

I’m working on it, I think that I got sucked right into a
perpetual writing siphon that has pulled me in your direction
and I wonder if it will ever stop or if it is something that
I will be able to control the flow of with time,
I am trying to decide if I want that to be the case or not.

It’s that you are perfectly human and perfectly inhuman to me
equal levels of both and I don’t know how that is,
some sort of enigma that I’m attempting to figure out in this
fishbowl life that I’ve staggered into,
seeing my own orange reflection with blue pebble background,
I am speechless to say the least,
and the solidarity of thought is difficult to grasp;

right now, all I know is that you are somehow the sand
and the hourglass
and I grew up thinking that I would always be the sand
but I’m the wooden stand supporting the hourglass and that
makes some strange metaphorical sense to me even now.


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