Neckties & Timeclocks

 

Chasing the sweeping second hand around the face, expecting to gain what, I don’t know.  I’ll never catch it, for it never stops or slows.  It must see me or sense me behind it.  It taunts me.  It has always taunted me.  It sees me for the failure that I am.  An ambitious workaholic, fussing with schedules and deadlines, making more excuses than money. At the end of the workday, no farther ahead than I was at the start.  Racing to a finish line that will only replace me with a fresh body.  I shall then be redundant, looking back at a race that was fixed from the beginning.