I watch through screens. Some are dirty. Some clean. Some are tiny, unseen.
Some full of madness so heavy I could scream. Like layers in a dream within a dream within a dream, a movie we’ve all seen. I watch to prove myself. You document. Proof.
Poof. Gone. Just like that…
In an instant, Time, like history or new ideas, is gone. Yet here I stand for you still existing for you. Nothing stands for me and I can’t stand nothingness. Or screens, still I watch like watchers do and I wait like waiters do. All for you.
Turn left. Turn right. It doesn’t matter really. The years will build up like dirt on windows never opened; Dust accumulating on panes too painful to clear away. Leave. Stay. Doesn’t matter really. I’m yours and you are mine, but it will always be me who decides because I am Time.