To Alex

Some days pass so fast

   you wonder where they're going,

and some days pass so slow

   you wonder where they've already been.

  Stuck in the friction

                 of sand between

            you and me,

with a flick of the wrist

        and a twist of gravity

   we all fall through,

     slipping between holes

           in the fingers of days. 

And nothing stays in place,

    and everything shakes

            top to bottom

topsy-turvey

     inverted

           and retrofitted

                 to suit the moment.

       And the moment says

  that lies are an imagination

                                of the truth,

  so nothing is worth achieving

                            if it isn't for you.

No, nothing is worth achieving,

             nothing,

      no, nothing at all.