Crushed

Crush
time in your
hand,
is it divine
or is it sand?
Does it bleed
or does it flow,
through your veins
or through your toes?
If it's in your hands
is it small,
or does size matter
not at all?
I look at thee
passionately
but it's like
looking at a wall,
and time stands still
as time stands tall
and from the pedestals
we always fall.
As time crushes
down on me,
my thoughts scatter
my breath flees,
my blood quickens
my blood freezes,
as the sand thickens
and the sand squeezes
my heart
through the hourglass
and my mind bleeds
as the hours pass
waiting for the dust
to settle
after the white flash