When I Can't Do Anything Else

so many rain checks

No need for words, no need to be heard. When all you could do is sit still and become what you could be. In the stillness of time, and between the rampage of hours, within the insides of ticking alarm clocks, and the chronic rhythm of the gears, hearing their minuscule metal of revolving cogs turn- an essential sound of which we keep track of. Sitting around aimlessly, in a direction and speed that can equal to zero, but may still be fast-paced and quick, like the ripples of water; carrying around waves upon waves of catalytic past occurrences. Lost in stagnation, too fast to even comprehend how much time has already passed, needing to consult another hourglass, flipping it to the other side, watching every grain intensely - not risking a glance, or time might just slip away again, absconded by the granules of sand. Taken away by Father Time.

Finding yourself stuck in a delay, skipping days as they mix up with the nights, just how 1:00 am looks like it was still yesterday, but clearly tomorrow has made its way; when you were certain that everything wasn't how it shouldn't've been. Crying in the folds, smiling on the surface, lighting up candles in the far distance you've already went to a minute ago: to secure a location, worried to stumble away from the stairs you were very eager on building. Time has no exact beginning and end; it is in every way a ghost of the future, and the tickling memories of the past, a quiet sky with an upcoming storm, and the longing for something to happen - aware of this something is already happening - something we can't grasp, and we are something we have no definite concept of. Time has no anatomy nor structure. It is fluid, the most malleable, bendable, and willing substance in this universe. Though, uncontrollable; it is in our very hands, and at the same time, not. It's in the messy cupboard of someone's home, or in the most boring page in the most boring manual, hiding behind the shadow of your coffee mug, in the insides of the stars, outside the stretches of our sight, infinitely spreading, provokingly compact, and forever contained within the illusion of timepieces - wrapped around your wrist. A glance is all it takes to know the time, and not know it.

Sit or lie down, without a clock in sight, you notice minutes become hours, and hours become days, and days become nothing but a stagnant rolling of centuries unfolding a frontier in front of your eyes. There is nothing faster than time, and nothing slower. In time, you'll feel the pull of it, feel the gradual ebb of the ocean of strings, in each fiber of consumed time, and time about to be consumed. Time wasted, time haven't been wasted, and time wasting away as they grow longer, stretching in every direction. No need for words, no need to be heard. It takes time to realize that there is so much time to spend and save, to relive and discount to actually appreciate the hours that are still ticking, the seconds we're still counting. The time we're actually living.

Let's take a rain check for the time being, //k.u.