Wasting Time

I took the minutes, the hours, the days, the hands of the clock, the digital pigments on my watch, too. Scrunched ‘em up real good into one compact jumble of numbers and moments, and tossed ‘em over my shoulder. True, they weren’t used fragments. In fact, many of those moments were still hollow and glowing with potential energy and space to be filled.  But nope, they’re in the bin now. I’m not going to watch the numbers fly past my eyes, nor the hands spin round and round in futile ecstasy. I’ve conquered you, foul demon of the fourth dimension.