Still Days

As the last rays

Dip beneath their concrete horizons,

And the expanse of lined scratches

On the walls widens;

As the potential increases

And the noise levels drop,

The daylong golden reverie

Of a hazy afternoon pops;

There’s another day gone,

I’m never getting back.

Still days to go,

To lay to waste;

A full life’s worth,

Lazily retraced

Still I feel

An undying waste.

The Path

Trudging down the path
The beat path I knew well
A path my shoes had smoothed over
And the lack of friction was proper hell

It seems days of walking
Had exposed something buried
And the something buried caught my eye
As along the walk I scurried

Ooh, shiny! said my brain
Let’s stop and take a look
So stop I did before the sand
And another look I took

Nothing particularly interesting
Just probably photo-worthy
For whatever it was, that faux flash
It seemed just quite earthy

But I’m on a well-worn path!
And schedule I must not betray!
Oh, can I stop and smell the rose?
Should I go or should I stay?

As, of course, Smart Alec will say
There’s nothing here to smell;
It’s a bloody sun-reflection
As a closer look will tell!

Well, tell that to my distracted soul
That’s stopped to take a snap
And just as the shutter closed once
Time sneaked up on me and gave me a smack

Heavens, where did my time go!?
The shiny thing is gone!
“Of course, you silly thing,
It only shines when the sun’s on.”

And now it’s 10:30,
And I trudge along home,
The day’s gone, but it’s too early for bed:
Just some more time to waste alone.

Granted

I sat alone
With the humming of vents
Buzzing in my ears
Familiar chain of events

Everybody’s gone and
I’m the only one left
With a head up so high
And a mind bereft

Of any new thought
Running on rewind
Shutting out the time
I left behind

I wish I may
I wish I might
Just for a few hours
Stop time tonight

And I sat gazing
In endless gloom
Five AM
My predicted doom

Just a day that I might
Be spared the sleigh of time
And she smiled a twisted smile
That wish shall be mine

She came and sat beside me
And smiled like the sun
And my watch stopped working
At a quarter to one.

Just so you know, this is a true story, except no one comes and smiles at you at 1 in the morning. That’s the sort of nightmare I don’t need in my life.

Also, are my circumstances kidding me?! I have two back to back midterms coming up next week, and I do not have the time to replace a battery now!

Just my luck.

—This post was presented to you at 12:45 AM 1:31 AM

I’m Done

I’m so ready for today to end.

I’ve yelled at a toilet seat and have two midterms tomorrow.

As Green Day sang on Brain Stew,

My eyes feel like they’re gonna bleed

The clock is laughing in my face

My mouth is dry

My face feels numb

And goodnight.

Sound of Music

I can’t get enough music these days: I can’t always find time to separately listen to music, and I’ve sort of lost the ability to successfully do anything along with music, except for music (which might shed light on my problem, wouldn’t it?)

Perhaps I can escape the music by turning the volume down low. But I can’t escape lyrics that invite me to follow a story. After all, one thing that anyone can confirm I am, is a storyteller.

(And like, also a musician, but I’m trying to make a point here. So for five minutes now, we will all sit with fingers to our lips and not talk about how I begin dissecting the music I hear when I hear it and end up not getting any work done. Deal?)

So I’ve found a loophole. I’ve started listening to French rock music, where I still get the music, but at low enough a volume to keep my focus on the proof I’m reading (we actually lay a decent focus on reading and understanding someone else’s proofs as well in my CS class), and without the words telling me a complete story.

Of course, the odd phrase will sit in my head, but it isn’t as bad as English where every word basically finds a match in my head straight away!

But you see, the trouble is, I’m actually making an effort at French in class and might soon enough have passable enough French to understand what’s going on. I have already found I’m able to pick out words distinctly, even if I don’t know what they mean.

So soon, I’ll find myself in the same situation as I’m in now.

I guess I’ll have to start hunting for a new language then.

Perl here I come.

Surely there’s a lot of other good rock music out there, and I can’t wait to get right at it.

Next stop: Finnish metal bands.

(Truth be told, I’ll probably start following just the sound of the language because, you know, you could call it music too.

I think I’ll eventually be stuck with Last Ride In by Green Day (it’s instrumental).)

Haze

Staying up late at night to study has its own merits and demirits. I do some work, my mind wanders, poetry happens. Often.

I don’t always want to reach for my phone at 1 in the morning, it really messes up my rhythm.

So this is my new outlet.

I’m doing poetry on paper napkins! I could go all poetic about how fragile they are and everything, but you know the real story behind it; I’m just lazy.

I’m not sure how legible my handwriting is, it also happens to be my 2-AM-attempt-at-being-neat, so while it’s an aesthetic (I guess? That’s my alibi, after all!), I’m still going to transcribe it, for readability.

(Let me know if the Earth has launched out of our solar system and it’s actually readable enough for me to not need to transcribe it!)

So here goes nothing.

Einstein was right
Yes, time is relative
It’s relative, to space and sound
And all the people you’re around
Silence echoes louder than sound
Perhaps it does to some
For me, the white noise of my own thoughts
Begs sound’s intervention
Break through my inertia
Set me free
Take the place of disturbance
At once growling and motherly
For 9 PM and 3 AM
Are now the same to me
Bind me to my looming,
Growing responsibilities
Free me, speak in my mind
How screwed an I if I disagree?
Coerce me, coax me
But get me through the shitstorm
I’m singleminded in the wrong ways
Steely resolve to absurdity
Break down my statue
A memorial to eternity
And then know that you’re free
To haunt my whisking dreams.

(Just a note, that’s my math textbook in the background. I’m truly sorry.)

Blends

Cells run dry, you’re stuck in time
Frozen in a frame of mind
Stranded by the tide unkind
Tripped a moment and left behind.

Watch for the sun to come up or go down
You’re living in an old ghost town
Is now forever? Or just a flicker from the past?
What would be the future, and just how long does it last?

As the motor winds down, nothing matters in the end
Lie jaded all over again, we’ve another day to spend
The clock jeers in your face again
As the minutes and hours, light and dark blend…

It’s actually a pretty interesting thing I’ve noticed recently, living without time. None of the clocks at home are working, we’re stuck in the seventh hour for eternity. It’s been 7:30 for days, and my life’s revolving around how far we are from 7:30.
I found myself wondering what it’s like living out of time, or without it altogether.
Is it really time, or pace, that sets your life?