Too much time

by on April 25, 2020 :: 0 comments

It’s like we’ve
always been here
locked in a circle
of deja vu.

Waking, the only
difference in night
or day, but still
all the same.

Same walls,
same window,
same faces inside
looking out.

This is our home,
our shelter,
the place we
become us.

But our
safe places
became our
new cages.

Time – the thing we
normally lack –
shoved down
our throats

choking us,
stealing the air,
until we give in
to breathe as one

synced to the sound
of a tiny hand
ticking slowly, so slowly
around the same
empty dial.

editors note:

Alone together, like before, never. – mh clay

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