I stand still on the tip of the big hand at one
and the seconds pile on.
I wait for the chime,
it decides not to come,
so outplayed by the bad run of luck,
is it fate?
tucking my pant legs in my socks and spewing hatred at clocks and their imbecile ways which have for so long wasted all of my days.
I take the Sun by the ray which is beaming at me and wave goodbye to the seconds but they're too blind to see and more interested in being the weight that piles on when the big hands at one.

I rush out of the Sunbeams,
it seems like forever but more like that never ever is or can be
and the weight of the hours begin to slide up,
I see the trick now,
to unbalance me,
how cute is that?

Time starts and it ends in a flat line,
dead on arrival or the
fight for survival,
a train timetable,
I am unable to understand that which is clear
at times too far is far too near.

I stand,
the hands will return
time on my hands and too much time
to burn.