The clock in my head ticks counterclockwise,
As my sense of time then loses its hands.
Their shadows start lapping the room’s empty walls.
It’s then that I start to think I understand.

Some Familiar faces, they just looked my way,
But when I look back, I see the backs of their heads.
I know i could explain things I've never seen,
But I'd have to use words that no one ever says.

A name intrudes whispers and escapes my lips,
Of someone I know, but don’t know that I know.
I was planning for things happening yesterday,
With a mind that cannot even perceive tomorrow.

My clothes are there, folded in layers of my truth.
My methods are organized by my own confusion.
The knot that lives in between my heart and my throat
With inhales it tightens but it never really loosens.

To find what is real, i have now learned to search
In The silence that lives underneath my illusions.
Attempts to reshape some clarity from what
I’m sure are just faulty misleading delusions.

A word exists stuck on the tip of my tongue.
My name is not something I'll ever write down.
I’m remembered only by unknown forgetful tongues
Who’ve not ever spoken my name or your name aloud.

I once took a zoomed in picture of my eye.
It resembled that of amphibians or snakes.
I Drew myself as a person, but whole again,
But the person just instantly burst into flames.

I painted a picture of what you'd look like in heaven.
But the next day I noticed it was all rearranged.
I still don't know how I can feel so at home.
Inside this dream that feels so morbidly strange.

Searched on every summit for lost elusive cures,
And for the alchemy.to make me feel I was pure.
I've violently torn through all that I am,
Begging every deity I’ve known for their hand.

There is no guidance.

What if healing doesn't surface, Cries muffled under sand.
A doctrine for the hopeful who will never understand.
My wounds still hold the daggers, unremoved.
What if pain protects the heart because it'll never be renewed?

There is no feeling.

Singing broken hymns inspires a hymn of praise.
Unspoken laws, maybe I'm an example being made.
I’m never broken; I can only wish to break with time.
I remain a quantum sonnet stripped of any rhyme.

There is no harmony.

Maybe there is grace that lives within a wilted plea.
In knowing, I’m exactly who I knew I’d always be.
A life pulling chains tethered to a hopeless mind.
What’s left within a soul, to see its purpose held divine.

There's nothing to believe.

Without residue of ash, from embers glow,
Haunted by the echoes, that have turned hearts to stone.
Our cold sweat of empathy for fellow misbegotten.
Stitched into the nerves of a body that is rotting.

There's nothing to see.

I cannot find belief in me for false restoration.
No longer a seeking of a hollowed-out salvation.
I walk with aching fractures to a rapture born in rust.
A fate I feel deep in my core, that all is made of dust.

There's no eternity.

What’s the meaning to the riddles I weave?
Is there truth in what remains, or is truth in what will leave?
As I stand, a withered body without a single plea.
I am all I ever was, all I know I'll ever be.

There's nothing to be.

Time comes and time goes. Timed perfectly, sometimes.
It times its tricks, in time. Like well timed rhythmic rhymes.
For time’s no time-thread, or a time-tangible thread.
Yet time spins time-webs into each time-plagued head.

Whispers from before time, in the time-chiming clock,
That aching tick tock, That promises time will not stop.
Might time be a stream? No, times flow is no stream.
So, time, times itself through seams in our time-faulted dreams.

Timed moments count beats in time, till the moment time snaps.
Then just in time, time resets, and traps our time in timed traps.
For time just times its mask, in a time-shadowed guise.
sometimes, time keeps us blind in a maze of time-layered lies.

Through time’s timely weaving, as time unwinds our  mind.
Strictly timed, are moments we live for, never found in good time.
For time isn’t timeless, though time insists that it is.
Time’s tricks are simply timed tricks, with no time-starts or ends.

Timed pauses in space and time, seemingly timely at their best,
But time steals those perfect times from the time that we invest.
Yet time in its time-vault, keeps no time. No, not at all,
Time rises through ages, timing ‘till its time-laden fall.

When time times our time, it feels like time, this time is real.
Yet ill-timed illusions distort the times that we can feel.
For time isn’t timed timely, nor timed to our tune.
Time is bound by time,  like the timed oribiting of the moon.

In times of confusion, we time what time says isnt there,
As Time sifts through our grasp of time. like time, itself, is air.
Yet time will timely tell that, Sometimes, time is a myth.
Oh, the time wasted I've spent, believing in times timed wits.

And that’s assuming time is flexible, by assuming time is fixed.
And on that note,  this is all assuming, that time even exists.

In a dusty magic orchard, my soul lost its worth.
Where a garden of poison fruit called from the Earth.
There, a tree stood, it was beautiful and dark.
But when the glare from the moon revealed me to its bark,

Its branches took hold. I knew I was ensnared.
Ripped out my intentions, as dust filled the air.
Its trunk overtook me, no matter my strain.
I was trapped in a euphoria, divine and insane…

Beyond the veil of roses, we know of the thorns.
That omnipresent sting of need, that slowly adorns.
All beauty seen, only masked an ugly face.
In a statuette state, watched my world shift its shape.

Each petal a facade, each leaf was a lie.
This enchanted tree, has now silenced my cry.
My soul, now ensnared to its beautiful spell,
My search in desperation, formed a path straight to hell.

Deep In this garden, I remain without vision.
Controlled at its will, my roots bound in addiction.
Only one tale unfolds for my soul. I’m too deep,
As my cries become screams, I’m as silent as sleep

Adore not this garden. oh sad, starving heart.
For this magical garden will tear you apart.
Never eat from her harvest. Never mask your own dread.
Run far from this soil feeding my life to the dead.

In a luminous lost space, my ego dissolved.
I’ve tasted the nectar, of cosmic resolve.
Through swirling patterns, a map would unfold.
I’ve traced the connections, of the timeless and bold.

A symphonic wonder, a radiant flow.
Where boundaries blurred, and darkness glowed.
The world expanded to a canvas so bright,  
And I, one of darkness, was bathed in its light.

My ego dissolves. What a gentle release.
I merge with it all, I merge with its peace.
The unity of being all truth was revealed.
In every single pulse, a bond is being sealed.

I observed full potential in a quantum bound space.
My energy, my soul. We morph with the waves.
In this transcendence, did I finally belong?
I’ve stitched harmonies from an out of tune song.

No darkness lives here, no shadows to hide,
Just pure ecstasy on an ever-living tide.
The veil, it lifted. Revealing the mind.
With every atom, sculpting this sacred design.

I’ve seen too much from behind these lids.
I've learned that the dark is no place I can rest.
It shows me everything that hides, or is hid,
Inside every pulse within others foul heads.

I flinch at any kindness like it's going to bite.
For not every smile is given to me to stay.
I keep my room the brightest at night—
So, when I see me, I won't look away.

My body is here, I think. Maybe in part.
But rest is somewhere I left, unclaimed.
I built shrines of silence inside my heart,
Where I hid my echo and gave it a name.

When I am asked, why I never sleep,
A version of me steps in front just to lie.
Cause sleep is a place that's way too deep,
For someone who feels like they already died.

I’ve felt myself moving under my skin—
I'm an actor mouthing some borrowed truth.
I close up and break. The thoughts swarm in.
As I choke on even their quietest proof.

I stay wide awake thinking pain will pass.
It doesn't. It stayed here and laid in my bed.
My comfort is a window of shattered glass—
It never begs me to fix my fractured head.

I taught myself how to speak under pause,
And how not to feel, with blood and meds.
You know love exists? Then show me the clause,
Stating “nothing that lives, is punished when dead.”

I almost opened my heart once. And It burned.
Not with fire—just light I knew I shouldn’t touch.
You say your worth trust? Well see if it returns,
If you abandon it like faith and leave it untouched.

I wish I knew how not to leave my own trail.
But my presence cuts the air, and I can’t pretend.
I stitch it back together, each time I inhale,
My own conscious effort to draw my next breath.

These eyes must stay open. That’s the only rule.
So I count every crack in the wall and the door.
My heartbeats break open. My bloods in a pool.
Not so much now, but that used to mean more.

Might as well be the door, I will not unseal.
Or the me in the mirror would start turning away.
Cause to truly open up, would make it too real.
And nothing that's real in my life, ever stayed.

So never again, will I close my eyes.
Keep your strong skin. And I’ll keep the scars.
I swallowed a lock; in my chest it resides.
And never again, will I open my heart.

A shadow hums beneath my breath.
The sky forgets to tell the time.
She leaves me silence shaped like death.
A myth entombed in lucid rhyme.

My mirrored dreams of broken glass.
Each shard a doorway, and none the same.
I walk where all her echoes pass,
Her voice is stitched with ash and flame.

She hid a key in every frame,
Beyond the chords, in painted hymns.
I found her key and whispered her name,
Her morbid promise kept pulling me in.

Might God reside in a hollow space?
My questions hung from phantom nails.
A spiral wrapped in velvet grace,
My Searches meaning, they always fail.

She told me death can't be the end,
More like, its taught before we're born.
A stairway disguised past secret bends,
The path one takes when the soul is torn.

The body exists to shape the soul,
The form of matter we all outgrow.
She smiled beneath her final woe,
Then dressed the dusk in afterglow.

I felt her vanish just like a spark,
I felt her words ignite the void.
"Not every light gets buried in dark,
Not every pain is meant to destroy."

The walls still breathe in syntax lost,
she wrote in sighs I try to translate.
A gift that came with brutal cost,
To witness the pulse behind the gate.

The clock unwinds its hidden gears,
And time becomes a soft deceit.
I've listened past the weight of years.
A heavy truth walks without feet.

So, if you ever knock and I don't reply,
Don’t call it a curse. Don't cry or grieve.
Not every end means one has died.
Not everyone opens a door to leave.