There goes the clock

Counting down the minutes
you have left to spend
Counting down the time
you wasted on your dimes

Now it comes back to haunt you
*Tick tock, tick tock

He told me that
Ivy bags never feel as good as shooting up,
Watching the needle slide into his arm.
Watching his liquid life drip from a
Plastic bag
Into the tube.

The first time he overdosed his friends were so scared
They left him to the dogs.
On the side of the road,
In a fit of rambling and cold sweat.
The sweat, everywhere
The cold was deeper in his bones.

The second time he was at his Mothers house.
She wanted so badly to see the little
Boy she once
Held to her breast.
But looked down on his shaking  
Ashamed to not recognize the body at her feet.

By the third time
He had no one left.
They classified him as a lonely addict,
Addicted to several deadly drugs.

At some point he realized he wasn't going to have
The wake up moment.
He was never going to bounce back from this
Swallowing sleep
Consuming his life one second at a time.
Ticking away he is lost to the sound of the clock
He says the rhythm puts him to sleep

He told me ivy bags never felt as good as shooting up
But sometimes the clock in the hospital would break
And he could pretend
He didn't ever feel the time.

this weekend with you went by so fast,
each moment suddenly in the past.
perhaps it speeds up
to make up for time you've stopped.
or maybe it's letting us pass
because it knows we'll last.

The clock has run out of hours.
The ocean was beckoned by Poseidon.
The torn plucked berries of poison.
I was never going to be yours.

The gravity kept us grounded.
The roses bloomed till its death.
The clouds had finally wept.
*I was left wounded.

A Thin business man
With two big sons
One short, one long
Helping him daily
From one to twelve
He running faster
When his sons
One after the other
Day and night
Taking a break,the
Sons together at twelve
Deciding routines
Of humans on earth

Although
it's only a day
until I see you
it feels like 3
million years,
hours of avalanche
before we dance.
Not aware where time is
when we flare
& spark
the zoom of us;
we meld with high fives o clock; hands of the
tick and the tock.

forgive me for wanting
to pause the ticking clock
and simply dance with you
over the silence of our kiss

There are those times when certainty comes easy.
Why have they fled
The panting hands of my clock
That are sprinting to catch up
With them?

That black and white circle is like
A racetrack from hell,
One no one can ever escape
And a race one can never win.

So how is it
That we find the strength
To keep on running?