each paycheck of mine is soiled with notes and words and

organic molecules. every stolen envelope, in

my mind, resonates

a time of vast

 inspiration.

sand

 falls in the

Hourglass, descending

to the frequency of my every-

day Clock. punch-in. punch-out. and each

word is my soul, and every stolen page another part

of me as much as the last.. and so it goes, on and on, til each day my

time

runs

out