Time

Time slips by easily from watch to eye,
We wear manicled fetish around swollen wrist,
Where time does no longer dance the quick, quick slow,
But is charted, measured and dissected.

9 to 5 and 7tilleleven, in evening times
of half an hour we watch those east end lives,
until we retire tired for 8 maybe ten hour hands to tick,
and tock, deadly dark flouresently lit.

Until alarmed majors bark orders for a new day,
Big ben is not my friend but my jailor.