The hands of Time

Inkwell sized intentions are magnificent when spilled. They are permanent and they seem to cover everything. 

I catch the truth when I open my eyes.

I try not to be that present.

Not if I can help it. 

But the consolation for everyone else's lack of consideration is that in the end everyone pays taxes and bills.

Apparently the only thing in this life that you can get away with stealing is a heart and someone's attention.

I walk back and forth in my own head more than I do in this room. 

I would think by now I would have figured this out along with all of life's other mysteries. 

Apparently I am not that intelligent.