Is it that my sense of humor is flawed,
Or is the world just funny in the wrong ways?
Is the world even funny?
Am I just making punch lines out of one or the other?
Why is it that any sort of human contact makes the world feel so much more objective?
Whether you’re getting hit in the mouth,
Or hugging an old friend,
Everything becomes real for those short spans of time.
Hold your hand over fire,
And you will get burned.
Fact of life.
Never touch the fire,
And you won’t ever know how to deal with a burn.
Fact of life.
What happens when you get thrown in?
Don’t try and read me,
You’ll just entertain me.
I don’t need entertainment,
I need to get hit.
By a truck.
That’d be an objective reality I wouldn’t lose touch with for a decent chunk of time.
Speaking of which,
Did you know it was relative?
No one knows it better than those of us who work graveyard shifts.
My time,
Your time,
Their time.
There is no such static thing as our time.
Some people think faster,
So their time moves slower.
Some people are older,
So their time moves faster.
All I have is time,
And it won’t stop moving in a fucked up rhythm.
Ever tried to listen to three songs at once?
Imagine that happening every so often,
Each song fading in and out,
With a pattern that can only be defined by the man or machine that can define pi.
Now turn the T.V. on and try and watch a documentary for an important term paper.
Can you focus with that pulsating, drifting beat that never stays the same?
Can you tune it out like a slushy machine hum,
Or a dying air conditioner unit?
It might be worth a shot,
But most likely that paper isn’t really worth a shit.
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Submission Name: Questions on the Ethics of Time
