You’re So far from me that the distance between us feels as a deadly dagger that cuts off me my jugular and flays my soul slowly and painfully. But time is my ally to alleviate this pain. Although, sometimes, the damn clock is unable to show the hours and its obsolete, but intricate precision mechanism does nothing more that stick its little hands into the sore.
And it occurs to me that maybe I could replace so much gear and loose bolt with a simple hourglass where I can keep my demons on a short leash. Or perhaps I could exchange for them and keep myself safe prisoner of time until I turn into hundreds of tiny particles, until I turn into the sand that knocks into the glass spheres that contain it over and over; until I tint it crimson red.
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