#ticktock
arms brush on the hands of a clock.
infatuation discovers love
longing to twist and turn into one another.
caught between the tick.
every second that passes
they wait to cross
the hour becomes an echo.
reverberating in hesitation.
anxiety grows impatient.
each minute expanding to that grand moment.
their shadows contract.
the tension of the world fades.
their skin darker than their shadow now.
in a heart beat the clock tocks.
you cannot tell them apart
Sep 18, 2024
Sep 18, 2024 at 9:07 PM UTC
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The clock is ticking
Time is running out.
I stand here with a black robe and a scythe
Watching her battling her own demons
Crying but not shedding a tear
As I await to feed on another soul
She awaits to seek comfort in my arms.
There she stands
With arms wide open to embrace me
With a stool underneath her feet
And a rope around her neck
Agh...the cliched way of quitting
Disappointing me as there was no surprise.
The nooze...
Not so choking as her parent's expectations
Or those comments she got for those extra pounds
Not so suffocating as his kiss had left her
Or that bottle of beer and pack of cigarettes
That felt too strangling to let go of
I stand here watching her
Covered in wounds she did to herself
Seemed like her body was her canvas
Every scar, wound, bruise and cut
Had a story of it's own to narrate.
I see her struggling against her own mind
Crumbling down with each thought
I see it all in her dark deep eyes
Deep yet everything seemed eerily hollow
Those eyes showed no sign of regret
Not a hint of reluctance.
No! she wasn't weak, just tired...
And so I ask
How far do you think she's willing to go
I had my answer
As she kicked the stool and also her life
Pushing away the last bit of hope
The rope around her neck grew tighter
Her lips curled slightly
Into a hauntingly charming smile
Life flashed in front of her eyes
As she thought she could escape it all..
Tick- tock tic-hush!!....
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
times running out,
hear the old ticking clock.
tick tock. time a' running out.
you can't run little girl, for it is much greater. the old man in the clock is quick to take his victims,
'your time is done. the clock has stopped. calm down girl, it will all be over soon'
black takes over your vision, all you hear is the ticking of the old mans clock.
tick tock.
one by one they all stop, growing eerily silent.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
i wish i knew what was wrong with me
so i could tell you
so i could explain to you
why sometimes i dont know how to breathe
why sometimes im so overwhelmed by everything going on inside of me
that i cant function
i wish i knew how to love you
so i could do it
so i could explain to you
why you deserve the best parts of everyone
why you should be as affectionate to yourself as i would be to you
but i cant do these things
and in the end, i cant change
and ill stay as worthless as i am to you
because i dont know whats wrong with me
because i dont know how to love you
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
tick-tock,
tock-tick,
these old clocks are making me sick,
tick-tock,
tock-tick,
time is running out now take your pick,
tick-tock,
tock-tick,
come on now make it quick,
tick-tock,
tock-tick,
there is no longer any time,
or any rhyme,
your time has ended,
and it can't be mended.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
Life is passing me by
And as I hold my breath
I realize I can't stop
The endless, rushing days
Hours of wasted time
Unless I breathe. And live.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
the hands of time will lift you up
higher than you've ever been
when they go back around
they might let you down again
the hands of time will let you live
while counting down your dying day
they are only meant to give
the time that they will take away
the hands of time will let you fall
six feet under coldest ground
they only answer to their call
to lift you up and bring you down
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
This is the jail cell
This is the hell
trapped in this jaded mind
What will I find
Thoughts tick tocking away Wondering which way will I sway
To the left or to the right
To the dark or to the bright
My mind is all swirling
Like a tornado it's twirling
The angels they play
And remind me of a better day
The demons they dance
Just hoping by chance
That I will join in
And dance with my sin
tick tock, tick tock, which way will I sway
What's my choice going to be today
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
Does she sound familiar to you
she is sound of familiarity between strangers
You can call her the vintage sound
The intrusion that can’t be ignored
Tick tock ,don’t save the last dance for later
Repelled from the future to stay away from the present
Her Pendulum swing in search of happiness
she said we all need the clocksmith to repair our broken piece
Polish and shine me all you want without my sound am nothing
she might be an unpleasing sound to a married ear
forgive her if she craves for attention ,getting old and rusted is not a perfect look
Tick tock sees herself in the mirror only her reflection was no more
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
the clock chimes
but no one counts
the days move at will
forward, backward
days stand still
the ticking of seconds
lost in the minutia
of the everyday
endless mind chatter
and negative self-talk
heart in a vacuum of speculation
what if -
coulda, shoulda, woulda
WILL NOT
DO NOT
STAY IN THIS PLACE
strain to listen
can you hear it
it's there
in the undercurrent of life
lost beyond yourself
tick tock
a shadow of a sound
tick tock
time never stops
tick tock
feel the minutes turn to days
a sense of time thrown away
on nothing
it's easy
so much easier
to wonder
what if -
why me -
than to take a deep breath
and realize
the world does not revolve
around a solitary soul
and no one is ever
the reason someone makes a choice
choices are made of free will
or they aren't choices at all
good or bad
tick tock
tick tock
tick tock
can you feel it
tick tock
tick tock
tick tock
it's the minutes of life
left behind
in a cloud of never was
tick tock
the clock chimes
but no one counts
the days move at will
forward, backward
days stand still
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
A seed is planted,
Leaves grow,
Flowers bloom,
Fruits ripen,
The bark toughens,
The stem branches out...
Seasons change,
Leaves wither,
Flowers wilt,
The fallen fruits rot,
The bark wrinkles,
The branches grow higher...
The eternal onset of time,
As the sand escapes the funnel of the hourglass.
Invert and repeat for every empty bulb.
A life, progressing from birth,
Ending at decay.
Time, she plays her tune-
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-...
Like a metronome set to 60 BPM;
Never stopping, ever stomping on,
Oscillating to the mechanical rhythm of Time's pendulum,
Journeying to a finite end on a path set up to infinity.
***Time, she is proof, that we are alive--
Proof that decay hunts down the living...***
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 2:08 AM UTC
I watch a moment more -
the hands they turn, and rise.
I know not - what to expect
With each exhaling breath.
The hands, again they move -
not together, but with each other.
A syncronised harmony -
both moving, changing blissfully.
I'd look away, but I daren't not
I stare amazed, awaiting -
trying to catch or freeze I know not -
The tick-tock of that enormous clock.
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
Five hours left
in today's workday.
Five hours,
and I simultaneously
don't think I can make it,
but also know I have to.
Five hours is so little,
such a small amount of time.
So I'll watch the clock,
witness the dwindling.
I know I'll be fine,
after all,
it's just five hours.
Plus I'm off tomorrow,
and I have grand plans
for a day of wallowing
in bed, my mind set
on accomplishing
absolutely nothing.
Hurry up, seven o'clock.
Four and a half hours now.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
"I don't have the time."
The words I muttered when you
Locked your nervous eyes with mine.
They flowed out of me, they came without effort
But to you, each word cut deep, but you're used to being hurt,
By busy minds, fleeting affection
The generation of instant gratification
No one has the time.
Not for you.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
Tick tock of my heart
Waiting for my life to start.
Tick tock all alone
Lips to teeth and skin to bone.
I just want to be content
With how I live and living’s rent.
Maybe by the day I’m laid down
Six long feet underground,
My eyes full of wonder, I will see
How beautiful life can really be.
m.c.c.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
how fast time goes by
when you wish it away. time
please come back to me
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
You won't be a doctor
Because of those paper face masks.
You wont touch your fingertips together
But maybe you'll touch my fingertips -
Touch your fingertips to my aching edges.
Nose knuckles knees and elbows.
I promise my skin is not made of velvet
Or paper towels,
Just wishes and deep pores
Filled up like swimming pools of wonder.
They say curiosity was what killed the cat,
But I know the animal doctors pumped
Drugs into my feline until she slowly slipped away
And I know how long and hard I cried over losing a lifelong pet,
Never having known that type of loss until then.
Didn't matter how cat-elderly she was.
But I know you won't be a doctor because of those paper face masks.
You
With your heart of alabaster plaster,
Paint splatter,
Striped hoodies and rainbows,
Scribble faster.
You're teaching me how to be.
And each day I silently thank you
From my brows down to my feet, down to the soles.
Our souls have shaken hands and enjoyed the fit they found.
Tick tock.
Why wait when the time is now?
I think we know what we think we know.
Don't you know?
Know how you slay me with compliments -
Cut me straight down the middle so my left and right have to find each other again
Before I even have the time to blush.
I asked you your favorite flower
Even though I was pretty sure you had told me already.
I wanted to make sure.
Lilies.
And because of that movie I know the lily means "I dare you to love me"
And I have to wonder
Is it really your favorite or are you sending me a message?
Our world is enveloped in messages
Of the Tumblr Facebook Skype and text varieties
If I sent a carrier pigeon, would it make its way to you?
The past has a funny way of repeating itself
And I've never seen a carrier pigeon
But who knows,
I could put those babies back in business.
Tick tock.
You said ***** the what ifs.
Let's hold dear our future plans.
If it makes you happy, why do anything else?
It feels like I'm on the operating table
Awaiting something too big to comprehend
I think of your hands and the curve of your being fitting with mine
Eyes closed. Chapstick whispers.
Soft lashes that stay where they belong.
The operating table doesn't seem so cold
And I question everything I thought I knew.
But one thing I know for sure
Is that you'll never be a doctor.
Because of those paper face masks.
And that's fine by me
Because I don't think I need an operation
To be me
For you.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC