Wednesday, 22 February 2012


Ticktock Ticktock
The sound of the clock signifies the pace of time
The order in which things go
The rhythm and rhyme of life
24 hours... 7 days a week... 60 minutes to each unit of the hour but as the seconds tick in my head I realise that my time skips a beat
Me and the living-room clock are not in synch
Chaos rules my heart beat
A metronome of disaster pulls at my heart strings
The earthquake of my tormented soul doesn't know the pace to which the man-made clock goes
So as my aura bleeds the agony of my space and time... as sanity slips in and out on the rhythm of a swirling breeze... as love comes and leaves and heartache fills its place... as smiles turn to frowns and straight lines form circles that go round and round and bring me back to this living space
Where the perfect clock and my life's time piece click out of pace
I realise it's man-made just as I on that night, or day,  I cant say
We are both flawed... but my inner clock bends man's rules of time
It lives in a space where heartache can last forever and love flits in and out from petal to petal as fast as a honey bee
Where doubt is only a few steps slower than hope and the destroyer of dreams is at the same pace as faith, no matter how fast hope tries to keep faith afloat,
An impossible task with doubt just a few steps behind hope giving its strength to the destroyer of dreams
My clock keeps sadness on par with joy and my avalanche of emotions never know at which pace to go
But though quite different, the clock and I,  ultimately will stop keeping track of time
But a new battery will give the clock back its life
While I will be berried... forgotten... expired
My ticker can not be revived

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