Surfaces

Life is short, but sure ain't right
to rush the tide of things to be
when time is flawed so usefully

The clock strikes 2 at 3 sometimes
the floor hits me with trees cut by
a stranger I won't meet outside

Death is quick but painless free
and fear keeps me from asking
what it's like to be at peace

The rocks like me sometimes
to lie down on their heat and I
enjoy the sunshine of another time line

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