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Jaicob Nov 2020
"Tick, tick, tick,"
The little watch shouts.
He sits inside my pocket
And awaits me drawing him out.

Tic, tic, tic
It's time for me to rest.
Society and anxiety
Give me too much stress.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
His voice puts me to sleep.
I love his perfect rhythms-
The perfect time he keeps.

Tic, tic, tic
The second I put him away,
The vicious tics come back
I wish they wouldn't stay.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
Directly into my ear.
The only way to stay 'normal'
Is through the rhythm I hear.

Tic, tic, tic
Whenever I am stressed,
The painful tics come back
And cannot be suppressed.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
The second-hand marches on.
Enduring all his hardships,
He's rewound every dawn.

Tic, tic, tic
My fists are bruised and aching.
"What a crazy spaz"
Society's gaze is saying.

"Tick, tick, tick,"
My lovely watch proclaims.
I whisper the rhythm back;
The perfection keeps me sane.

- - -

I need my pocket watch beside me.
Though it may not seem I do.
You simply do not understand
The troubles I'm pushing through.

The terrible sounds and motions
Are so very, very draining.
The worry to always suppress,
Wears out by the day's ending.

My watch sits beside me,
Ticking as I write this
(Ticking so I don't have to),
And reading as a witness.
This poem is about how stress and anxiety often make my tics worse. I always keep a pocket watch with me, however, so I can pull it out and place it near my ear to listen to the perfect ticking noise it makes. This very unceasing rhythm is what keeps me from having a breakdown most of the time.
Umi Feb 2018
By the time as it passes endlessly without coming to a halt.
Each human has been gifted with wealth, wether that be material or
not is of no importance, some possess more, some do possess less.
However, the most valuable wealth which is in a clear recording,
Is neither chosen to be owned, nor can one choose to abandon it.
Some tend to waste it, according to others by their individual opinion.
For some it is a cruel fate, as it runs out quicker until the life has reached its destined point, fades away into the embrace of death
Some use it for their advantage, to gain success, renown, luster.
Are you able to guess what it is, has the obvious been pointed out ?
Tick, tock, time passes, to never to turn and change it's path
As I am getting lost in emotions, such as tremor in my thoughts, I have stared into the pocket watch, its motion which gently calms me,
Thinking about the seconds which pass, I am locked in this angel's
sight with no chance to flee, digging deeper into the structure of my mind without minding the time which is escaping before my eyes.
Tick, tock, self reflection, thinking through actions, this time I spend staring is far from being wasted, far from being thrown away.
Until finally, I close it, sighing in relive

~ Umi
In memoriam of my pocket watch: Angel Zadkiel
Arihant Verma Jul 2016
I breathe fine, so much I saw a deer kiss a lion.
I was dancing on my bed when I fell and my eyes
Perched upon the stars, the guitar felt being driven
By the magmas of undulating plasmas of creation.

The skyline, the star line , the jawline smile,
There goes a man, there! comes a child. In the
supermarket of emotions I sit down on the aisle
of mountains, plaid shirt on my chest, I breathe fine.

City of dreams, city of creams, of murmurs and screams,
there! Goes a tie and there! Goes the lie,
in the air, in the past. Down the road and on,
roads meet, cross happy and die, but
does ever a mason stop when he has been cut?

I find time losing everything in my mind
Remembering all my life is just a game.
Time, I don’t have too much time, places
I will ever find, are awaiting me.

Pretzels in the pocket got tumbled
with the pocket watch, the locket that
somebody gave to me still hangs
like the eternity of temporary end.

12 is my number, of my jersey’s, of many days
that I had such that something happened. 13th
is my father’s, and no he is not a demon.
I share it with him. I had it from him from the
league of legacy that few people take pride in having.

— The End —