Clockwatching

It must be the recluse in me... an actual complete poem.

Behind the Times
I am two hours ahead of everyone that I care about.
And it's starting to wear on me.
I know that time is only an illusion,
I know that it is everything but linear,
But I am lost in the smoke and mirrors that it created.
I am separated by four dimensions instead of three.
Blinded by the reality of empty space between home and me
And it's starting to show.
But I know that time is only an illusion.
It is nothing if I want it to be nothing.
It can be everything but linear.
I can be lost in the smoke and mirrors that it created,
The reality of what I've created.
Blinded by the four dimensions instead of three,
Empty space between two hours ahead.
But always looking back to everyone that I care about.