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Gripping At Minutes

There’s something elusive,
and consuming
in this fall night
as the city rots to winter
Time wasting with it
Nothing is happening, but everything is moving quickly
I’m slipping further into the evening
days, months
And there’s a quiet engine
Idling here,
urging me to do the same
For a minute, I oblige
Plant my feet and hold fast to the moment
It doesn’t last, as time ticks I’m tossed
sent hurtling,
forward again
Into the night, the future
And it’s already tomorrow

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