tough crowd

People say that time moves on
Leading us to things unknown
I can’t see beyond this state
An agitation that’s only grown
Call it stuck, I call it stale
Recollections of my sometime
It all tastes of salty seas
One foot on a pressure mine
The future looks, the past stares
These moments all reflect
From mirror to mirror
This appearance represents neglect
Birth to death, a blink of light
Time remains flashing at twelve
I wish the gears would grip
Over-lubricated I see my selves
Drowned in remorse to live
As a turtle that can’t reach air
Most agree the past creates the now
To me somehow it’s not so fair