How can something so tangible and understandable hold something so confusing and vast? How can a fucking piece of plastic, mounted on the wall, a pricks high-end luxury item which is flaunted and misused, a fucking number that wakes you from your rest hold the one thing that is in constant motion and is constantly changing?
What happens when the clock stops?
Time doesn’t cease to progress. Clocks in the physical sense are useless. They are solely there as a guesstimate of what time actually is. Everything continues exactly as it was. No change. I don’t understand time. One second, it could feel like situations and circumstances will last forever and the next second, you could blink and it all is over. Three and half years is nothing. Is it something? It means a hell of a lot to me. Fuck, I’m waiting for a day when I can understand this subject. I want an explanation as to why my mind is full to the point of bursting for weeks on end and my relaxing times are gone before I can let out a sigh of relief. Time is constant. That is one thing I am sure of. Time changes everything eventually. Well, it’s supposed to anyway. If you break the clocks to stop the time, make sure you’re firm in your decision whether it’s day or night.
Clocks.
- December 08, 2009
- indiescream
- 1 Comment
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