Behind the clocks
Ticktock, ticktock
An immortal
Spirit dwells
No flesh that sags
Nor slowly rots
No meat on
His bones
To tell
Temporal
Disturbance
Fatigue sets in
As we scrape
The bottom of mind
Post it on your page
And now you're all in
Cursed to be
One of his kind
....
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
Behind the clocks
Ticktock, ticktock
An immortal
Spirit dwells
No flesh that sags
Nor slowly rots
No meat on
His bones
To tell
Temporal
Disturbance
Fatigue sets in
As we scrape
The bottom of mind
Post it on your page
And now you're all in
Cursed to be
One of his kind
....
Traveler Tim
Request permission to use this poem