Time what has become of you?

Time stalks you.
It drives by your house
slowly on a Friday night
playing "your" song.

Time hides in the bushes
and the bullrushes,
Giggling.

Time knows that
you can't ignore it.

It swoons  you.
It lulls you,
into a passive state.

Then you snap
out of it
and you realize
that you are now chasing Time.

You hiding in the bushes
and bullrushes, wheezing.

You want to drive by
Time's house,
playing "your" song,
longing for more.

Weeping

My soul weeps
whenever you're around.
My mind sleeps
whenever you're around.

My heart breaks
and tumbles to the ground.
The romance inside
spilling out on the ground.

You've taken me hostage
Ground my joy into sausage.
carving out a larger cavern in my soul.
emptying me out, you sad little troll.