3rd 90177*!) 01-10-23

 How much more time I have left before nothing will be the same, is it short lived for a reason?

When I saw you so close and stopped to detail into your eyes, I didn't want to look away, I didn't want to move, and you would have been the one who looked the other way, and broke the spell away.

But not me, no I didn't do that, if it were to me to stretch those seconds, to feel those minutes in my flesh, to sense the ever passing, eternal and flashing seconds in front of my eyes and yours, to know how far I am stretching that fine thread of fabric of the giant loom of love that is time, infinitely pulling the crown of the watch to drawl the minimal second tick to eternity's end, I would have. If that meant looking at your eyes that day.

Not me, I wouldn't have flinched, I wouldn't have cared if that was my last thought or vision, I'd still stretch out far my time to see you the most, so much to just be stuck in that moment until eons break away the love I felt that instant.

I remember the experience of drowning thrice. 

I've been suffocated by the tidal volume of an unwatched pool when I was younger, I didn't breath in or out, just sank without fear and got dragged by my brother. My sisters cried but I didn't as they say, "You just kept looking at the deep side of the pool, so we took you out all together." as more than two of them recall. 

I've been smothered by blood many times, chugging so much of it I'd vomit it in an impulse or gag reflex that to this day never came back. Clogging my throat with my own blood, clearing my nose only for it to rapidly swarm back to this hot and crimson blood to flow harsher, the clogs long as 7 inches down from my esophagus to my mouth, as a parasite. I almost died that morning if not for blunt force and desperation that made me regain the consciousness after three towels drenched entirely in lukewarm blood from the son. I since then suffered from then chronically. But it never stopped.

I've been choked in a try at taking my own life many times, the rope was tighter every time, but be the forces that be or not, I could never totally break my neck, nor run out of air. I would only excite at the thought of those Sunday's nights were the world set still and let me rise still as well, never a tear rolled down but they still existed inside the soul. Each attempt has been a life I lost somewhere else in the road. 

And in some way, as well, I think those moments were truly still in place and motion, locked, captured by eternity. It has been this forever now and tomorrow. I am abstract of details and it's unbeknownst to me how it might work, but after seeing the eternal blackness at eye level I realize that no eyes will ever stop time for me. 

I don't break for love, nor for death, not finality but the assertiveness of it, memento mori. solo.