time loops around
my neck

cinching closer
with each
breath,

now picturing a
vacant beach

where one may
exhale in
peace.

as day creeps
to a close,

father time sheds
his skin

to reveal all
along

a slave to him
i have been.

how can you recall
the dates?

that blend into one
clanging
clock–

atop its ashy
mantle..

pleading to be
unwound

by next set of hands
to find it
making

that ungodly
sound.

given surplus
time–

i swear i’d waste
it not

on same games
that got me
caught.