time's moving too fast. and it blurs like glass. too fast for me to hold. i blink and i'm old. but the sunset's still gold. but the wind doesn't blow. so the clouds don't move. they've got nothing to prove. time's moving too fast. and the people stare. oh, the people glare. eyes like syrup that runs slow. with their eyes that glow. embers hot and heavy. deep orange and heady. burn like headlights. and im the deer that bristles in fright. stuck like traffic, stiff like static. i wonder what i can do to be seen as moveable. i wonder what i can do to be, but it's not provable. so i pixelate, pixelate. disintegrate, disintegrate. and turn into particles. those useless articles. and suddenly the atoms i'm made of can be seen. the pieces of me settle in the dust and i fit right in. and i blend and blend. and the people still stare. i feel it on the back of my neck like the wind when it blows a single hair. i turn and they smile with their teeth that gleam. cold like ice, glacial and mean. i feel my pupils contract and freeze in my eyes. i feel my pupils contract, and they shrink in size. only a minute has passed and i can feel the blood run slower in my veins. when i frown the lines in my face hurt and become permanent pains. become permanent stains. so i lay on the sand and watch the sun set and the moon rise. watch the waves and then i watch the tides. three times. four. years pass and i haven't left the shore. my hands wither and death bids me come hither, my pink lips faded to a soft brown. i'm older now. i'm older now. and my birthday hurts. and father time smirks. flaunting time like a dashing dime. sipping purple wine. and it burns but he forces me to drink it. and its sour and i hear the church bell chime every hour but i'm chained to the dining table where he sits at the head like a king and tells fables. he speaks of teens who took time and spun it into gold. he speaks of them, he speaks of them. reminds me that i'm old. then he looks at me, and tells me to repeat what i was told. but my brain is dull and light and gone. and the single hair on the back of my neck is grey and my eyes droop and the room melds and my mirror doesn't recognize me and the room smells. smells orange. burns bright and heady, then it all swells. swells and splays. swaying me on my feet. and my heart is completely still but its loud and it shrieks. sounds shrill. bright orange flares in my mind still. and the sun is up with the moon and it's dark yet bright. i look around me and see vincent van gogh's 'the starry night'. a thought is prodding at my skull now. i think it's a shard from the mirror when it broke. i look into that single piece and it fogs up and it smokes. but then it spoke. 'time's moving too fast and it blurs like glass. time's moving too fast and it blurs like glass. time's moving to fast and it blurs like glass. time-'

-strewn along the synapses of the mind

© ilifluous