Two Objects and the Space Between Them

1. It was too hot to wear on my wrist so I detached it and put it on the table before me. It left an imprint on my skin, I noticed, which was now cooling off. I look at it; silver and blue, mostly, with luminescent glow-in-the-dark indicators. It didn't seem like three o'clock, but it rarely lied to me. And it wouldn't surprise me if time had escaped under its watch. My watch's watch.
2. It was a little smudged - surely not by my fingers though - and there were tiny specks of white clustered toward the basin side of it; escapee spittle from tooth-brushing. I ponder why I take pictures of myself in front of it. The sight I see is never the same as what my camera produces; never as pleasing anyway.
3. I stop watching my watch and I'm 21. I stop looking at myself in the mirror and my hair grows, or I have a pimple somewhere new, or I need to shave again. I can't be doing both at the same time; I shouldn't be hung up on doing either. They are different ways of blinding myself. Time is infinite, just not for me. I will have a physical form, just not forever, or one I will always be conscious of...