Make Time (11/02/09)

I'm making time into a ball
composed of threads I've untied from my clothes
None of me pants or shirts (Which I
like to fit tight) are without holes
from the pulling of my body
on this outer layer

I wear clothes made from the fabric of time
I wear my knees and fall and make them bloody
I wear my shoulders like a harness in constant
flux/the equilibrium torn in the back of my shirt

To flex my muscles
and shed these awful garments
to breathe and bask in naked reassurance
and shed this awful time
Make it into a ball
and cast it away into the sky/a star
to add to those other marks/
the map of passing time

Make my ball a mark of time
an eternal flame which someone must observe
don't let it burn
let it glow
like a dead thing
with eyes like mine
set upon the face on the clock
waiting for that moment to be free
and, once it's here, for that moment to come again