Yesterday asks questions that I don't answer
While I fend off schemes lobbed from tomorrow.

Where does today hide?
Why do I step over it like a bottomless puddle?
Would it be so scandalous to fall into the present?

Manic tomorrow slashes through my hideaway with a machete
Eager to deliver me from the brush.

Why must I be rescued from the now?
Why carried over its shoulder like a wounded soldier?
Will it be safer on the other side?

Traffic lights slip through my senses
But I'm no more the purer for it.

Should I separate my dreams from my dishes?
Should I stand silent in the centrifuge and throw fancy to the wind?
Does significance float on the surface, or is it too heavy?

Not everything left to stand out will rot.
It shouldn't be such a struggle to sit.