In a second or two can few words carry through
And lay waste to an unstable mind,
(There has been no person as lazy as you...)
Must be cruel, but I haven't the time.
And to you I can never be kind.
As minutes pass, in spite of my speaking,
(And talking is easier than doing,)
Cities and towns etched deep in my sight crumbling in the slow summer heat,
Flecking her ice cream cone with dirt, dark as dream itself,
Piling peat against unrelenting peat,
As she disappears into the storm of rot and decay.
If states collapse in merely minutes,
Then worlds with ease can Time devour,
Grotesque beast, Time, with its slow-chapped power
Seconds and minutes upon unthinking hour.
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