sunscreen

sometimes, i

wonder about the future

as if it’s already happened.

it’s sticky, the overlaps

of the clock

ticking in my mind and

the one running outside.

the sun quickens the gears;

i squint, trying to wear sunscreen

because if the sticky lotion saves us

from the terrible disease that is melanoma,

it must save me from time too,

right?

but it never does.

we fantasize about BDSM

when the only real bondage is time,

and she stops for no code word,

shoving our throats into the noose

that is our future.

and she’s a sadist, time. she plays with the coarse threads and watches them confine our growing insantity as we scream and lunge to get revenge on her untouchable body. she smirks and lets the blood pour down our chest as we yell questions that have no answers. why? why this? why me? why now? time sits back, smiling because her job is done. her hands are free from holding our deaths because the noose need not ever be tighetened. for we have killed ourselves, mad from it all.

i wonder, sometimes.