Here’s where things get weird: Why is it we care?
Why can’t we turn it off? And why’s my mind
Like this? Time is time, I tell myself here
Where I can breathe, pause and think: time is time,
This moment is a gift. But platitudes
Like these are full of shit. Time is not time.
This moment sucks. Trust is not trust. The rules
Of the world, that words mean things, that the mind
Will be the one sign of us to remain,
They couldn’t care less anymore, you said.
We got it wrong, then right, then wrong again,
Being unprepared to play or be played.
We’d flayed ourselves across a wooden cross
That in the end was just a wooden cross.