Rentable bodies

The moments slip like quicksilver as the very seconds sink like daggers into our souls. Time whores our flesh and gravity draws all that was once taut and the paramount of vanity downward, flesh sagging as our souls once soaring drag in the withering river of lives. Each day passing as we wait to see when death will swallow us complete like the gluttonous maws of our ignorance. Wrinkles like ditches hold the woes of youth, and indiscretion. We seek that which will brand our senses of the experience, the touch, the taste the great memory of eyes as they burgeoned outward at the wondrous stimuli before them. Aye there’s the root.