Skip to content


time is hungry, eating itself tirelessly
morning, noon, and night –
once it eats up a minute, seconds later
it has eaten up the hour and comes back
for seconds, thirds, and fourths –
and right when you think time has
run its final course, eating up your last
breath, your death was just another pinprick
and continues without remorse with everyone else
the next day, eating what’s left in the cabinets and pantries
whatever it wants for itself

backdated Post a Day poem for April 2nd, 2017

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: