Ticking toxin

Time is the slowest poison known to man
it turns tall frames to wrecks and rocks to sand,
sends muscles lame and shapes stiff clubs from hands,
shifts fertile beds to lonely, barren lands.

It overtightens joints and senses dulls –
a Jupiter-sized storm that never lulls,
contaminating youthful hopes and dreams
unpicking comfort cushions at the seams.

Time trips the lively brain, cuts vital wires,
transforms the bright to dull as tongues misfire,
it breaks us down like nails rust in rain
consumes our flesh till only bones remain.

But what choice we – whose pulse must race along?
Our need to breathe to be is that so wrong?
Is our desire to feel a dreadful crime?
The punishment to drink hemlock of time.

Well if to see my child’s resting breath
I must this toxin take that leads to death
this venom that my form and mind erodes
I’ll gladly sip until my heart explodes.