Killing time

There's so much to do. Finals week in 3 days and it will be hell. I know this -how can I not- but lethargy has latched on to me like the suckers of an enraged octopus (I hear that they can shlock on and be pretty much impossible to budge if they really want to) The part of my extra sensory perception devoted to picking up that sense of impending doom is basically shot. The doom is very much impending but there isn't even a blip on the radar. All I've been doing is killing time... Funny expression really...


Killing time.
To hold time by the neck, hanging him over the edge of the tallest building you can find, squeezing and squeezing until you can see the tears in his eyes and that annoying vein that pops out of your forehead. He’ll kick and he’ll wheeze and you’ll laugh. Laugh out loud, because you’re killing time. And as the lifeless stumps of his fingers drop from their vain clawing at your hand, and as his eyes glaze over you will know that it has finally been done. You can get on with all that truly matters in life since you no longer have the option of killing time. You can no longer kill time because time, is dead.
His head lolls back on his now limp neck and you let go. Let him fall. Watch him fall, turning over and over and blurring in and out of focus, convulsing in some strange time warp like blur, in and out of sight until somehow, all the way from the top of that empty shell of a building, you hear him hit the pavement with the ominous tock of a grandfather clock and what remains disintegrates with the rushing sound of sand flowing through an hourglass. And the winds will come and blow time away, the little bits of him flying, carried on the wind swirling in sad beautiful arcs and dips, now and then catching the glint of the dying rays of the six o'clock sunset.

hooray for free writing excercises. Another 20 minutes have slipped by.