Time is within your hand and you control its motion.

Time is yours to spend, don’t follow notions.

Time is in a love triangle with you and whatever you love.

And when you do what you love it urges you to do fast.

Time is a reflection of yourself running from a mirror.

Both you and your reflection neither, make any more progress than both of you can either.

Time is a backfiring of those who wanted to know how much time,

until time told them there can never be enough time.

Before time people died after unknown periods of time.

But now time tells you what to expect, whether you want to know or can’t.

But now time is a gold watch on a wrist of a timeless corpse.

What time is it, they ask.

But what type of time should it be?

It’s still the same time that changes when you look aside your watch.

What is time to you?

It is whatever it is to me.

Both of us want more of it.

There will be a time when both of us wish, we had spent more time with it.

What time is it, they ask.

Time is the distance between then and now,

and we find ourselves not having time to look back, or move forward.

So time is like a tattoo on your back,

you can never turn and see it for what it’s worth.

I’ll rather be lost in time, than to know how much time is left.

Design for me a watch that shows a progressive hill,

that grows and grows, as I ascend, until it’s a cliff.

With hounds behind waiting for me to take,

the last dry human dive that goes into soil.

Living in these times will teach you that time is death, patiently waiting for your significance to fade.

It will teach you that time is debt, passionately waiting to deliver your fate.

That time is a woodless hell with growing trees.

That the devil in time doesn’t tolerate entreats.

Time is still money,

as we choose whether or not to spend it.

Even when we choose not,

It unleashes its inflation.

Trying to make it in time are those who run until they leave their shadows behind.

Not willing to be left, they run till they slip on their sweat.

But who arrives, is what time ultimately decides.

It’s about time we realise that there will be a time,

when time will lead and our heart beats will follow behind.

Time will hop into a bus, leaving us behind.

“Time, time, please don’t do this to us,” we will shout.

We will continue pleading so, till we are tired.

But after they’ve realised we’ve tried our best,

those that love us will lay us to rest.