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Chronocide
I commit chronocide, killing my day.
The disemboweled seconds now decay.
The corpse of time is silently rotting—
So slowly it's deteriorating—
Soon it's body should be eaten away.
Chopped up in my watch's persistent sway,
I dice the moments passing me on their way
To mem'ry's youthful and innocent spring.
I commit chronocide.
I murder my hours. I slice and I flay.
It's a holocaust of the minutes. I slay
The endless fields of disparate nothing,
Commandeering with the Great Captain Boring,
Telling myself some bloodshed is ok.
I commit chronocide.
poem
by
Tim Stensloff
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