Stealing Time

When the days turn dull and gray,
where their bones start to decay,
time to pay them debt collectors, no change.

Recompense at their expense,
aches that echo long ago.
Make a landfill in a canyon, wasting.

They invested in the past
but the future's here at last.
And they're choking on the interest, slowly.

(My poem as part of a collaboration with Psentinel - our interwoven piece below.)

 

 

Stealing Time.

When the days turn dull and gray, hunted by the rhyme:
recompense at their expense, from the pockets of many mirrors.

Always hunted by obsession (aches that echo long ago,)
time to pay them debt collectors, no change.

Find me lurking in the shadows where their bones start to decay.
My future self ever surprised, living with his curse.

Make a landfill in a canyon, wasting.
For his arm reaches forward too, grasping at the purse.

They invested in the past, but the future's here at last
and they're choking on the interest, slowly.
Stealing bits of time. 

 

(Find his poem on his profile.)