Web of continuity

Time, sometimes, is like a silly little spider;
a small, wandering thing, haunting my room in the latest early hours.

And time, sometimes, can cause a stir. Crawl into the light, and unassumingly consume my every ounce of focus.
Sat tense and alert, I’m unwilling to take my eyes off it, lest it leave my narrowed view;
leave the steady permanence of perception and melt, omnipresent, into every interconnected shadow once more.

And sometimes, with time, I find ways to forget this fear of mine.
For ever and ever, (and ever, and ever...right up until those seething, scuttling shades of gray catch my searching eyes...and the Awareness returns with fervor.)


And time, other times...will just.
sneak up on me 

and bite.


Quick as a flash, with all the force of something so tiny (so huge..) that I'm shocked into realizing...
..it was only ever....

...what it was.


Metaphors cling until they crack, tumble down below, and sink their roots into the ever-rolling bank of the mind.
And somewhere, somewhen, a spider flies off my wrist, smacked swift and deft, with little fanfare. 

Maybe it's dead. Or maybe it's living.
Or maybe it's run its course and run away, vanishing into the patch-pattern quilt of dim corners and softer edges.
The infinite, indefinite unknown.

The earth tips far on its axis, and my bed surges up to meet me as I fall. In that instance, I know with uncanny certainty that Time has already stretched its rhythm again;
has frayed, faded out, and fallen into place just beyond my comprehension. 

I thumb the phantom sting of my unblemished hand, observing the absence.
Watching for a single crawling crevice, or perhaps a seam, stitched up with threads left to hang.

Not tonight, though.

In timely manner, it appears the empty spaces have already sealed themselves away.

So in the face of flattened shadows, emptiness without depth, I can only mutter –

– yikes, my dude.

Before I drift into an oblivion all my own.

rosealice

VT

18 years old

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