Dali was wrong – it’s not the clocks, but people
That melt away and shrink under the sun.
Our best attempts to battle time prove feeble,
Although we cling, the stubborn hands move on…
At times, we’re forced to hide behind the turn,
Where running bulls won’t sweep our bodies under,
And watch, through tears, unable to discern
The beast from man, as limbs are torn asunder.
But, there’s no pain. It’s true! Just look around!
Do not avert your eyes from grime and gore.
We’re only icicles that stretch toward the ground,
The mesh of flesh is ice and nothing more…