the grift that keeps on giving

the measure that keeps on taking

the flesh dying for permanence

with the clock's knife always at our throats

its blade is the shine of sun on ocean

     the taste of metal beneath all banquets

     the cold realizations of vanished youth and fading love

     the source of desperate acts

     (nothing rebels like the cornered beast)

     the limits of civility

     the expiration of even repetition

though the sharp edge dulls all our moments

it’s the only weapon we share to carve a life

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