A one ended boomerang

An hourglass constricted, the whore inside of me who is watching the clock, monitoring the time, this wasted time to get off, get going, lunar cycle gauge of tide and meridian. How I can hear the sand slip downward in my body clock? I need to be here, could be there, and not long ago the only place you wanted me to be was by your side ... maybe?

I am a pencil that cannot sharpen,

ink that slides off paper,

outside of our time, I am lost,

a one ended boomerang.