No.106: A Soft-Handed Time Slayer
The hours, the minutes, the seconds--
every day they yell.
But in your presence,
time mutes itself.
Days, months, years go by.
If it were anyone else,
I would call it a waste.
are a destroyer of schedules,
a reaper of plans, a doomsday of calendars,
a soft hand on the head of a bullet train,
you are the end of all agendas,
it is only a fool who would hesitate
to sacrifice all his seconds and hours
for a life of silent, unorganized, extravagantly wasted time