Momentum of nothing

it's almost a shame, a damn shame to waste your time, to waste someone else's time, to waste time...time never to be had, time always craved and coveted, time long passed, time just passed, the past, the now, the momentum of every second you spend like you somehow own it. probably, not so often, but most of the time when you look back on things, hours are just massacred in futility and thoughts, ever so many, get lost in the process of neglect. there is somewhat of a revival in acknowledging things, there is infinite possibility in acting upon the acknowledgement, but sometimes i just yearn for things i don't truly or entirely want. getting something you didn't really bargain for leaves you with a weird metallic taste in your mouth, like chewing on too many silver coins, regardless of how nice they might be. i just want things for the sole purpose of having them without the implication of having to do something once i attain the object/person/desire in question. call me a hoarder, call me a collector, call me vain and insensitive and I'll revel in it. then again, give me time and i'll have trouble finding something to do with it. it goes without saying that i will end up doing something but just doing something is hardly time well spent, it's just a waste, and how i'd wish i'd have my own personal time with it's own flow, with a freeze here and there and a very big forward button to move me on to the next stage.