poetry: clocks by elena murray


I don’t have time


For your maybes and bullshit


Some woman are small enough to fit in your back pocket but


My expansiveness would rip your seams


My consequence would sink you straight to the bottom of the well


I don’t have time


For your surprised grimace


When I luxuriate in setting you straight


Bathing, absolutely saturated


In virtue


As my roots ground me and my blossoms fill the air with provocative scents


Ripping through your concrete


Shattering the glass of your vanity


I don’t have time


For your compliments and sugary language


What meaningless prattle when the substance behind it is non existent


Lacking every intended intention


My tack is too sharp to fall for that


My forbearance like rings on a trunk


Cut me open and count them if you don’t trust my savvy


I don’t have time


To fawn over your pretty face


Some women will welcome your giant footprints


Squishing into their mud an imprint that remains long after they’re gone from your mind


My heart won’t skip at that grin I’ve seen too many times


My skin has hardened to diamonds


Splintering any bones attempting to tread on my domain


I don’t have time


For anything but candor


Shocking, is it not? This woman demands frankness and when you spit falsehoods she shrieks


Like a hawk as it signals a nose dive preparing to strike


Not a feather out of place when her piercing eyes single you out and you know you’re time is up


Because she doesn’t have any to waste


Not on you






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Hey there, I’m Elena.


I’m a city girl with a small town soul. I love to cook. I work with children and I love performing. I have so many stories to tell and I can’t seem to decide in which medium to best tell them, so I dabble in them all. I love to sing and play my guitar, I tap dance and I eat way too many pickles. I’ve been officially depressed since 2002 and I’m an annoyingly huge advocate for mental health awareness, which is something I love to share and discuss in my poetry. My work is deeply personal (what poetry isn’t?) and recounts my past struggles with eating disorders, body dysmorphia, abuse, toxic relationships, love, friendship and how my journey, though nowhere near complete, has brought me closer to true self love. I hope this resonates. With anyone.


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