Life always seams to be ticking away. Mine is a pounding clock, breaking off the seconds. Mine is crumpled triumphant, lying in heaps in the corner. It's older than youth, and slower than bloodstained truth. It's bare clothed, stripped on a stone floor. My life is seeping with all the richness of poverty. mine is empty, sucked dry from all the blessings of bounty. mine is crowing lullabies, and whispering anthems. Life, mimicking the pulse of the Mississippi, And I'm drowning in mine?