Time is money , and I’m living in debt.
counting the missteps and unclosed tabs.
Moments slip right through my fingers that I never could grasp.
Is the reaper forgiving or do I have to pay him in taxes?
I wish I could trade my regrets in and get some feedback.
My soul’s run through like polyurethane 
I need to frame my progress.
Disposable’s the epithet.
Regaining sanity’s an Epic quest.
I would give til there’s nothing left.

this is a no sleep/ freestyle/ free-write session.
I’m sure we’d like blessings in place of lessons.