A TokTic Environment

Two young thieves I love,

Whom, from chronos, they did steal.

To bend and fold, “NOW”

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I look at what’s seen

The impossibility

My children can be

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Three versions at once

Who they’ll be and are and were.

Mind blown by clashing

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Bitter sweet passings

I miss what’s logged in my mind

Relish them often

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When present, I’m home

Regret steals it, when absent

Peace as rare as gnomes

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Can’t clutch onto time.

She bobs, she weaves, and sticks.

A constant construct.

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“Daddy! Chase me, chase…”

Echos while I hear, “I’m fine.”

Too soon at age nine!

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The past rips right past

“Can I watch YouTube, works done.”

Can I make this last?

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Purity leaves fast

Corrosion is on me too

I give in, I do

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Raising them in this!

The toxic environment

Portals and blue screens

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Dopamine rushes

Cheap thrills baits a need for pills

Exiting moments

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I see them in all

All grown folks that pass near us

wondering who they’ll…

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Stop time please! “Tick Tock”

Cruely stated to this dad.

Keep begging each clock.

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They are still young though.

No tics? No tocs? Please God no!

Future self take note.

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For J. For S.

From Daddy