#tic
Trying to make lemonade with my tic's.
******* me dry like a tick.
I used to have lemons, now I got lymes.
I'll make my lemonade Brazilian.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 11:45 AM UTC
They call it me, but it’s not my name,
Not marrow, mind, nor blood nor flame.
It jerks my strings with borrowed will,
A puppeteer that won’t sit still.
It isn’t thought, it isn’t bone,
It isn’t something I have grown.
It latched on like a second skin,
A ticking clock wound tight within.
An exoskeleton I wear,
But did not choose, did not repair.
A shell that crackles, thin and bright,
Like clothes struck hard by lightning’s bite.
It snaps my shoulders, tilts my head,
Speaks sharp syllables I never said.
A glitch that hums along my frame,
Yet dares to answer to my name.
They say, “Fight back. Just make it stop.
Control it. Block it. Clamp it. Drop.”
As if I’m captain of this storm,
As if this armor’s my true form.
But armor isn’t flesh and nerve,
And lightning doesn’t ask or serve.
This isn’t carved inside my brain,
No matter what the charts explain.
It’s something clinging, tight and cold,
A borrowed coat I do not hold.
It twitches seams along my spine,
A fault line humming under mine.
This thing attached is not my soul,
Not root nor seed nor final role.
It fastened on, but not to stay
No storm can own the sky all day.
One day this shell will lose its claim,
Fall slack, unhook, forget my name.
And I’ll step out, unarmored, free,
With nothing left but only me.
Please, God, please
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 11:10 PM UTC
Taking stock of good ideas, tried and proven,
thinkable,
handible, holdable, ways and means to ends
The End
which means now, nearly, for me, part of me,
for the thymus gland, font of wiser than I imagined
T-cells, about which AI knows everything,
in the cloud of knowing witnesses now
encompassing us about---
so I need no wax pedantic,
tic asktask
AI ' f'
Art's intelligence, or-if-suf-ficial ficiency
--- stop-- think what is
enough.
the point to a life lived in focus, point by point, stretching
any point that may
be
stretchy, to its snapping point, and say
That only goes so far, re
mind me, next time I try to stretch such a point, re
mind me to only go
this far.
But, Hello World; Hello Poetry, is a place
where long drawn out thoughts
may amuse strangers as they
ask, what lies do I tell
as well as any fool?
Jokers. Can't take a joke, wanna take a poke,
knock this chip
from my pseudo-frontal-cortex module?
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 4:11 PM UTC
"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.
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 12:28 AM UTC
Tic tac, tap your shoe
Tick tock, works the ticking clock
Tip toe, move the ballet pointe
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 8:52 AM UTC
Do you ever wonder what it would be like
If everything ended at a simple tic?
What would you do
If it was the last day?
For now,
I don't know.
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 1:50 PM UTC
Moon’s suggestive gleam,
Night taut with ****** tics;
Nature’s alert peaks!
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
TIC-TOC by Jessie 5/06
10pm. I go to sleep
11pm., awake
12am. I toss and turn
How long, will this process take?
1am, I grab a drink
Read a little from my book
2am, I have to ***
From the drink I took
3am, dozing off
Until startled by the dog
Can’t remember the last time
I was sleeping like a log
4am, the moon is bright
Shining in my eyes
Pull the blanket across my face
From the light, I hide
5am, it’s hard to breath
Take the covers off my face
Still can’t sleep, I hear you snore
While the ceiling, my eyes trace
6am, one eye is shut
I’m tired and I yawn
Sound asleep, I start to dream
Then wakened by my alarm
7am, time to get up
Shower, shave and eat
Head to the car
Drink in hand
Shuffling both my feet
8am, punch the clock
Sitting at my desk
Lean back in my chair
Feet are up to rest
Blink one time too many
Until, they open not
5pm time to go
Some sleep I finely got
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
As time passes by, the past has been sealed. We cannot travel backwards, time will not permit us to do so. Instead, we need to look forward in life. We are the ones who control our future. It is up to us to fulfill our dreams. If we don’t seize what lies ahead of us in time, our life will tick away...just like the clock that ticks away time.
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 1:50 PM UTC
Tic Toc at the midnight hour,
peddling along louder and prouder.
Clock my dear friend,
you've done it again.
Every single second I learn
that time has passed,
and you're consistent,
I hear it sixty times
within a minute.
And he continues.
Smugly taunting along
with that perfect timing
envied by all musicians.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 1:17 AM UTC
Prozac and Tic Tacs
That's what keeps me sane
One keeps my mouth clean
The other Scrubs my brain
These small sweet little pills I pop
One
now two
now four
I wonder what would happen if I took a couple more
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
maybe you are my new nervous tick, because let's be honest, I'm a little obsessive. and if it's not you, it's the person after you. the person I can't recognize because I am so blind to everything but what we had. it's my involuntary physical and mental attraction to you that makes me tic, makes a tic, that is my tic. it's repetitive; calling you Friday night after Friday night, believing it may fill me up without drowning me out. but I'm empty, I'm always empty. I don't mean to involve you, and I know you think I do this because you're still my everything, but you're just a something. a physical preoccupation I've yet to overcome, as you're always in reach. cover up the void you've left behind, never fill it - that isn't your place; tics are not mutually beneficial. we in no way help each other. do not know a way to help each other. you aren't my saving grace; you're the bad habit. the phantom limb I need to forget. the tic to fit my criteria: close, but never here. available to hold me, but in holding me you're making my tears. could you ever fathom such a senseless incongruity? and just where are you now? you're holding me in the darkness but I know you don't feel what I feel, won't ever feel a thing. me ignoring the truth of your coldness, the brevity of your affection - tics like your timepiece. maybe next Friday night, it'll be different. maybe next Friday night, I won't need a tic like a crutch, won't be crushed. until then.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
El reloj va sonando, marcando un tempo de viejo afligido, como si estuviera desesperado por dictar una hora, o un día.
El perro se para a observar el "Tic tac" y su cola baila los danzones que el viejo reloj marca.
La comida hierve con delicadeza y el humo de la olla silba las baladas que el tocadiscos canta, el reloj marca y la cola del perro baila.
En la mesa se destapa el elixir que llena copas y embriaga almas cubriendo cuerpos como los ríos cubren al mar, y el mar inspira al escriba que roba suspiros que mueven manecillas de relojes para marcar tiempos y bailar colas de perros, hervir ollas que silban canciones y hacer luz que hacen cantar tocadiscos.
Entonces el reloj se detiene porque ya es Jueves y son las cinco de la tarde
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
Tik tok
Tic toc
J'attends, j'attends et j'attends
Les heures passent lentement
Tik tok
Tic toc
Basta et assez
Y'en a marre
Already
Hasten et vite vite
Basta et allez
J'en ai marre
Already
D'attendre, attendre et attendre
Les tics tocs
Et les tiks toks
Que les tics toquent already
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
Spec-tac-ular
There may be times when you contemplate & debate...
&feel; as insignificant as a grain of sand in the middle of the desert
but
*Know that to me, you have always been the speck of dust out of the million other that stood out and glisnted gold in the swirling sunlight
While the others merely hovered amidst the air as if they where lost.*
When people expect and expect...and expect of you
Until you feel like a piece of blue-tac that has been used over and over and over again
Until your sweet stickiness is lost
*Know that I would still love you even if to the world you seemed useless.And I would remind you that even tho sometimes I'm not always there to freshen up your day I shall never stop trying to be there 4 you even if I lose my mintyness too...
because a tic never abadndons a tac*
Because you are the girl who I will never be able to truly serve justice by describing you by words.
You are the one who I tried to describe by using the word
Spectacluar...
& even after I broke it down...
Even then...
Just like a beautiful forever unknown
There's always an end part that I can never fully know..about you
But I guess that's what makes you a beautiful mystery.
The fact you're like a precious golden 'speck'
And a 'tac' that never stops breaking off pieces of yourself to help others even if it means you have less
But...
'Ular' you are something 'ular' too...
I don't know what or what the 'ular' of you is...
But I'm sure whatever 'it' is...it adds up to make you...
Spectacularly...you
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC