Thoughts on Misery

and as the world folded in on itself,
i thought,
well isn’t that funny
my eyeballs are splinters
embedded in flesh
leaking blood and salt
on prematurely purchased
wedding flowers
staining their pristine petals
with memory
and gin.

the hours glide selfishly
mocking my every tear
with their endlessly stretching
expanses
reminding me that what i need
is of the essence
and i can’t seem to run
fast enough to catch up
to slow the clock
long enough
to inhale, exhale,
or dream.