All existence fleetingly compressed into a meaningless afternoon hiding in my bedding. The trouble lies in the relation between us and the ugly secrets hidden. The relation between time and the complex structures of our brains. Coordinate t moving constantly in a positive direction with all of us tied and married to it. We're not the blushing bride, we're the dented cans and just as outdated. Time is a problem. Time is my enemy. Time is charlie out there in the trees, the highway bandit around the corner, the asteroid swinging towards us in it's orbit. Time is money.