She hears tick tock, tick tock within her head.
Tick tock, tick tock the gears turn and grind as the clock work falls in line within her mind.
The time is rushing within her thoughts too fast for her to stop.
Soon she will wind down and will not tick or tock.
The clockwork girl will have no more thoughts, time runs short for her well-oiled clock.
Goodbye my lovely clockwork girl tick tock, tick tock, tick tock!

The spaces between the silence
The absence of your presence
There you stand, too tall
In the crowd of my defiance

Keeping it real our heads held high
Extracting the blue longing essence
We build the walls staying in dark
Blocks of reality cemented with distance

We shed each other like second skin
In the act of withdrawing assurance
Now the idol dominoes fall in synchrony
In the wind of emotions with eloquence

The doors forever closed and windows jammed
Locked out of endless comforting luminance
While the journey lasts a clock ticks ahead
Lingers the fumes of  evocation fragrance

Acetone*

It wouldn't take
a simple overnight
to have enough of him, now;
You miss him,
isn't that right,
as you tie your shoe laces
and clench your jaw tight.
How long is soon?
The waiting party's over,
your resistance, a deflated balloon.
You're running out of air, silly girl,
too attached with your care.
You're a switch and he flips you
from nothing to everything,
and you're weaponless.
So, do yourself a favour,
and stop counting all the seconds
you've waited for him,
stop wasting your 11:11,
or else when the clock
finally breaks down,
the time might just **** you.

I live in a dying vessel

You know how there's a Doomsday clock that measures how close we are from a global catastrophe?
That's about as close as I am to messaging you on any given day.

As the clock ticks clockwise as usual,
it turns 1:06AM.
A whole bunch of things have yet to be done.
Wouldn't it be great if the first line could go:
"As the clock ticks anti-clockwise as usual,
it turns 1.06PM"?

I watch the pendulum swing on my Grandmother’s old clock.
It’s three hours and twenty minutes off, and she can never fix it.
She keeps it anyways.

When I was little I used to sit in front of it
And sing along when each hour hit
Three hours and twenty minutes off.

The old clock used to wake me up at night
And I’d climb down off the top bunk
To check that it was three hours and twenty minutes off.

Now the clock is shoved in a corner,
Old and forgotten,
But still three hours and twenty minutes off.

My Grandmother’s new husband fixed the old clock.
He did what my Grandmother could never do.
The old clock is no longer three hours and twenty minutes off.
It will never be again.