Waiting

The proposed time creaks 
Closer to the present 
Working across the 
Floor as I lay on the 
Couch, flying through 
My body, unprepared to 
Crouch, heartbeats flooding 
The circuitry of blood with 
Extra fuel, guilty as the mud 

Time scrapes a line in my sand 
Dares me to sit it out 
Tenses my rubber bands 
To snap without direction 
Out of tune with the
Silent orchestra