Sunday, July 11, 2010


My life is a globe, it rotates on a central axis, precisely so that there are 24 hours in a day. But when it's placed on your finger tip it spins out of control. 24 transforms into 48, and 48 into 72, and before I know it a quintet of two dozen hours has flashed before my eyes leaving streaks blazing through the empty air around me. As your orbit continues to the other side of the sun, where your light is hidden from my irises, although I can sense it through its existence, your gravitational pull is no longer spinning me by the hand. My globe spins slow, it feels as if every hour has multiplied by a trifold, and 24 hours becomes 72. Therefore 60 days becomes 4320 hours in my mind. And that is a long time.