Drip

We run our fingers
Through the sky.
Brittle bones hoping
To hold the clouds...
As Ignorant winds playfully
Spiral along.

We watch selfishly
With eyes made of glass,
Projecting illusions...
That can never be touched.

Time moves omnipotently
Without challenge
Feeding and thriving.
Its breath smells of contrition
With a belly full of yesterdays.

Liquefied reality dissolves
Down the line...
Humanity ever rapacious, patiently
Waiting to be drip-fed...