I do not have time for beauty.

To sit, to think, to dream,

To breath.

 

I do not have the time in my mind;
to indulge my heart.
Its silly wonderings will clog up the gears.

 

My mind occupied with maths equations and worry.
Who has time for rhyme?

 

Perhaps it makes more sense...
To sit and stupor
And scroll listlessly through cyberspace.

 

Again.