The hands of the clock cannot be stopped, cannot be slowed, they go round and round and high and low, immutable as the tide – there is nowhere to hide.
Choices made, things left undone and unsaid, regrets biting with cold hard teeth once the hour has grown late – bitterness should never be one’s last taste.
Tick-tock, it all becomes a blur, it all fades faster and faster.
And I see my dreams floating off to space to mingle with the stars and nebulae.
Image Credit: charlotteleroy.deviantart.com