Countdown

You change the calendar to another month,
another year.
You cross off the days as they leave,
forever gone.
You can't go back.

You can't do shit.

Go to sleep.
Wake up.
Think nothing of it.

You're breathing.

You take notice of it every so often.
It's strange.
You don't have to think about it and
you don't.

Why worry?

Because it's gone, all gone, time flies.
You can't do shit about it.

You fill your lungs and cross off the days

and make use of the large
space in between.

[ SJM ]