Time

Gears are turning, clicking each notch, over and over, continuously in motion.
A tiny plate churning another and another and another until it changes.
A second. A minute. An hour. A day.
The clock tics more and more and more.
Time passing relative to your pace.
You are waiting.
Time sifts slowly as if sand in an hourglass, grain by grain, sighing its way down.
Stopping at times, just because you keep looking.
Time is groaning.
It's tired and sleepy.
It's bored and there's nothing to do!
You are late.
Time is whizzing.
Moving fast paced, lightning speed.
The minutes turn into an hour and you are not going to ever make it there before it's too late.
Time will not stop for you.
Time will drag on.
It will shoot out of the wind like a bullet.
It's precise.
It's mechanical.
But, you feel it.
You can measure time with your instinct.
Time is measurable.