He chased time.

Searching for more hours in the day, more seconds in a minute.

Every night he would pick locks,

cracking open doors of fine clock shops.

To steal a little more time.

Secretly snatching wrist watches out of clutch purses,

to occupy his lessening of digits.

Clocks would tick

like the beating of his heart.

Tick-tick Tick-tick.

Consistent and relevant.

The clocks hands twitching clock-ward.

As beads of sweat would trickle down the creases of his forehead.

As digits were lowering, time was shrinking.

This fueled his anxiety, like a stick of TNT lit at both ends.

Hours and minutes ready to explode in his face.

He couldn’t buy for the time he lost,

as time could not be bargained with.

Repeatedly looking down staring at the fractions of time lessening.

one-half, one-third, one- fourth gone

Dozens of watches he wore, frantically tracking time.

He needed more time but every second he added disappeared.

Where did it all go?

He wasn’t a coo-coo clock

Rather he had a purpose of it all

He was determined to search for more time.

Time to solve his problems.

Time to bring hope for more chances.

Time to live, Time to breathe.

Yet his time fell short,

Stopped by the end of his rhythmic tick.

Time out ran him.

Past tense now vacant where he lay.

Time Eternal.

Present Life.

As we are only temporary souls, in need of more time.

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photo credit: clock