Deluge of Time (by Sean Ali)

Would that I could abate this rotting time
Pungent with putrefaction,
            and rancid at the center
The seconds are brief and mellifluous
My occupation of them superfluous
The minutes are composite with misery
And after gazing wide-eyed into the sun
Make feeble attempts to see
            while the hours gain momentum
                        begin to run

O, that I could abate this sickly time
Rotting me from the outside in
Where the days stack upon each other
            building a new tower of Babel
The weeks march on tiredly
            to their inevitability
My existence dons shrouds
            of invisibility
And my heart grows frantic
While my soul is wrought
            with instability

The months slowly kick up their dying horse
Whose knees ache
            from the crack of whip,
                        dead weight,
                                    and pitiless force
Struggling to gallop where the past is darkness
And the future deeper darkness still
Our salted earth yields naught for crops
            despite our sweat and till
The years gather density like some great mound of mud
That will never be higher than the waterline
            of the rising flood