bins sarpedon I'm staring at the clock, "ten to twelve" Seeing the self-imposed deadline To extinguish the lights, And throw away my consciousness Slip slowly closer. The last thing I think of before I lay my head And the first thought that pops in my mind Has remained the same over the Last few long weeks "five to twelve" And destiny meanders closer, Reaching to cut off my time for the day Violently, if needed, But there will be no struggle. Time Sometimes I ponder where the time has gone Where each individual second ends up There are bins of my life, Collecting drops of time, Some approaching overfilling, Yet most bins being exchanged For even larger ones, to consume some more "almost twelve" My contract is up, and I must hold up my end. 021204 what's it to you? who go blather from