nathanael.ink

time was infinite and god closer becomes of it
wells and wells of endless wells
i was young and you were young
and time was our main supply
supplies of neighbors and sleep overs
of weekends, of figures under the church pews

time was our main barrier too
from driving
from being in control of our own lives
had we the strength: time was a brush we’d have cut away with loose headed hatches and staffs

it dragged and dragged
wells we could have drown in
waiting for my turn to use the computer again

now though, now it hangs
or i hang
i asphyxiate as time tightens
i have another breath i think, but don’t know
i don’t know how or where or when it all changed
i wish i did
time is the lake i dipped and drown in
i am a spiral sculpture