j u s t . t o d a y . t h e . t i m e . a n d . t h e . t h o u g h t s

Actually I have nothing to say here right now,

but I want to write.

I smell you and feel my own thoughts at the same time, time.

Time?

I shrink at the time of reality.

I shrink because the now is too big for me, elusive.

As elusive as the universe.

Is this reality really real?

Real.

What is real?

Time?

Time.

When the reality is seen

everything is beautiful.

But how it can be seen,

just check the time?

It is time.

(and yet, time is an elastic concept, stretching reality or pin down and stick to an agreed spot)

Maybe the spot is the reality here,

a spot to consider the spot.