GAME OVER

Does time continue to move even when it is me standing still, and it is an illusion, or is it myself that is an illusion is losing who inside of a timekeeper log that does not exist only inside the other mind and the image is getting clearer inside the mirrors of the walls of the others ones church who is the saint who is the sinner who is the loser who winner whos the who can sing and whos the one. Can't hold a tune who is always up before sunrise and who refuses to open his or her eyes afternoon

Who is living inside the second and minutes and who is racing the hours to the finish  line, making sure that they are not like the others with the noose around their neck but looking for a new way to die, refusing to bow down, refusing to be beaten to get to the
at finish line

Time is breathing down my neck, waiting for me to fall, waiting for me to answer its call. Still, I send it straight to voicemail because I'm too busy calling its bluff and living this thing that too many people don't know how to call life because they think all they have is time until the sand runs out and they kick and shout saying that's it game over I thought I had more time the game isn't that some shit.