What time is it?

Journals full of things I didn’t do.
Lists of maybes.
The triumph of not being hasty.
Libraries of the ideas of others that kind of feel like mine.

On the street, they’re doing Christmas again.
Demonstrating faith to each other by displaying strings of lights.

The sun is not yet up, and I am tearing down.
All the old paintings to the attic.
Considering the beginning of a new cult,
complete with T-shirts and hidden QR codes.
The more insane the better.

Painting men with watches.
Shackles of swiss precision.
Arm bands reminding them of their limited window of awakening.

The tribe from Cupertino
made watches into personal ego measurement machines,
complete with ear plugs to block out the others.