Time

So many images lost in the fragments of these lives. So many zippers hidden at the back of their necks. There's no wearing. Only being worn by.

Like the clamor of the words as they pursue that closet within where only empty hangers are left.

Where do you keep those costumes now? Or do you just wear them all at once.

Thinking someday those zippers might vanish and you could become.

Tomorrow is just an angel whose wings have no feathers left. And on the one night of the year when most we expect it may fly still it is only tries and fails us.

We let time prey upon when it's we who should be hunting it. We blame it. We beg its mercy. But time can't change. It can only count all of it that we've wasted.