The sink

There’s a little rectangular hole in our pockets through which time seems to pour through. Do you know how to plug it? I can’t seem to find a way. I will often sign grand contracts with myself to shut off the rectangle’s siren songs, to cast off its tyrannical shackles. Unfortunately, no amount of gnashing and trashing can fully rip out its hooks from my mind. Any respite is temporary, any hard earned freedom is soon lost to the rectangle’s weight. Read more