Time 

    Is 

a 

 ghost

   riding a boxcar at midnight

       drinking cheap red wine and laughing

   Time

wears nothing 

knows nothing 

Shows nothing

says nothing

     time steals your dreams

     and your fresh picked flowers

     It buries civilizations with times dirt

Time laughs 

at your sense of importance

Sneers at your good looks

Shits on your frail concupiscence

    time has no face 

    No hands 

     No second hands

       No feet