Tick. Tick. Tick.
I hear the sound of the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Unconsciously, my movements match the sound.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Then I stop and stand. Lost. Numb.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The beauty of betrayal (is that what this is?) is that it leaves no doubt.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound of the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
There is nothing more.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Nov 5, 2010
Nov 5, 2010 at 3:47 AM UTC
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I hear the sound of the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Unconsciously, my movements match the sound.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Then I stop and stand. Lost. Numb.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The beauty of betrayal (is that what this is?) is that it leaves no doubt.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound of the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
There is nothing more.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
© JAS 2009