A Human Construct

I once took time
by the burning of a cigarette;
ash fell in lieu of sand to fill my hourglass.
The immortality of youth led me to
scoff through my coughing as
I would joke of my
elongated suicide.

I kept time in the hours between
classes and marching band practice;
wasting my wonder at why I
seemed to have such a hard time while
all my my friends around found
lovers like their lives depended on it.

Time stayed at bay while I
lazed laconic in my indecision.
“If only”
would be the epitaph
upon my tombstone.

But I no longer
track time’s passing as I once did;
I measure it by
the length of songs that soothe and
ease my muddled mind.
They comfort me through my meandering;
though they still tend to taunt in
their ability to
restart, to
rewind.

by Erik Shinker