We are running out of time.
We are waiting for the moment
When the wheel stops turning and a little ball rolls out saying
You’re dead!
Everyday more and more people catch onto this
They realize that there’s so much to say and so little time to say it.
This could be the only possible explanation for why phrases like
“This vociferous revel provides mass amounts of high times
compared to the woeful status of the previous soiree we divulged in”
Get shortened into
“This party is lit, man! That last one was wack af.”


We try so hard to fit our sentences into 140 characters so as not to waste anyone’s time.
Forget the dinner date, the movie, and when you first kissed under fireworks.
All your friends want to hear is,
“I slapped on a Johnny and rammed her all night long.”
IDK what this new phenomenon is.
Where the word “you” is resorted to a single letter,
And everything seems to have an abbreviation waiting for it.
That’s like me saying, “To save you time, I’ve turned this whole stanza into an abbreviation.
Observe.”
WTSHTFOSI140CNTWAT.
FDDMWYKUF.
AYFWTH,
‘ISOJRHANL.’
IDKWTNPI.
WWURSL,
AESTHAFI.
And that’s tweetable.


Think about it this way.
If home is where the heart is
And you shorten “Homecoming” to “Hoco”
Aren’t you turning “Home” to “Ho”?
I don’t know about you,
But I don’t want to live in a world where we have to resort to saying,
“Little Timmy, Ho is where the heart is.”
Simply because adding two more letters would be too much work.
We’re replacing syllables with apostrophes
Like we’re all teenage rapping wannabe’s fitting ill words into 16 bars.
Like,
“‘Bouta turn up.
We finna’ glow up.
Show up.
‘N blow up
Yo’s minds.
Minda yo’ bi’ness.
We is dee illis’
Chillis’
Villis’
You eva meet.
Brows on fleek,
And jays o’ma feet.
O’ma feet.
O’ma, O’ma, O’ma feet.
Where Jays be?
O’ma feet.
Finna’ feed you dese words.
They finna’ hurt.
Go beserk,
Know the worth o’
Jays o’ma feet.
O’ma feet.
We on fleek,
‘N we out!”
What does finna even MEAN!?
Because honestly, I’m “finna” wear my Converse right now.
Hella cheap.
I’m saving money ‘cuz I wanna eat.
YOLO Swag.


We are but bystanders vicariously observing babbling bankers bickering ‘bout
Balderdash issues in the word bank.
Analyzing assets as associates approximate average usage of acronyms by amateur speakers allowing apostrophes to give arguments an away trip, while fists take their places.
Silently superstitious since shattering glass slashed their esophagus’ simultaneously.
Spilling spelling at every split second from every slit in strangely skinny necks.
Spitting rhymes so apostrophes will sit in spaces fitting for them to fit.
In other words,
There’s so much to say and so little time to say it.


It’s hard.
We’re telling jokes and hitting the punch lines too soon.
We’re losing details and getting to the point too soon,
We’re finna throw four years of english out the window
Because we don’t know if we’re gonna DIE too soon!
But we have things to say to people we love,
To people we hate,
And to strangers who just need to be told, “I hope you have a good day.”
You say, “ILY. I GTG so I won’t B L-8 for you, bae. ILY.”
You say, “TBH, ur finna catch dese hands if u glance at my man again. >:(”
You say, “Have a G R-8 day. IDK who u r. But IDC because everyone deserves a G R-8 day.”
Our stories are beginning to fit into 140 characters,
Being tweeted at everyone else through word of mouth.
But since there’s so much to say, and so little time to say it,
I’ll write poems for you.
Epistles on sticky notes.
And I’ll be the last guy to leave out details.
Because I wished for the world to move in slow motion just so I could be with you for an hour and have it not feel like a minute.
That way, I could finally laugh at Einstein for being wrong.
Because there’s so much to say…
And so little time to say it…
I’m finna start talking.