Sta.sh
Broken Clock
by ~ReidsanAll the time that slips through your fingers sits here with me where it can malinger
Within two and a half hands and a face without eyes
Time stands still, where it usually flies.
The steady tick-tock-tick
as seconds frift through the air
passing with little but a pendulum fanfare
Itīs neither here nor there,
hither nor thither,
And with every minute that sneaks by
The clock tells another lie.
Itīs half-past-seven-to-eleven-and-a-quarter-past-the-hour.
Why donīt the trapped days break out
in a temporal shower,
savouring every iota of power they have
on every life dependent on a clock
like mine, but unbroken?
When did our fate pass into punctual choking,
and when did we all commit the deed, unspoken,
that bound us to be Timeīs whore forevermore?
It is our fate to live in fear of being late,
or ceasing to be up to date, but not here.
The hours run in circles and the days are unclear,
instewad of confusion, this fills me with cheer
that I shold be in a place
where infinite instance doesnīt seem so queer.
After all, itīs hard to plan or stay on the ball
when all you have are false minutes crucified on your wall.
--
CONGRATULATIONS, CONGRATULATIONS, CONGRATULATIONS! You know why?
--
Are you stalking me? Because that would be super.
--
I do writing. Do you do reading?
--
Are you stalking me? Because that would be super.
I can see what you've been doing in Spain.
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I'm so British, I shit monocles.
--
I do writing. Do you do reading?
--
I'm so British, I shit monocles.
--
All alone she sits and stares, and thoughts flow through her beautifully complex mind, to quick for her to realise...
--
I do writing. Do you do reading?
--
Errr... I dunno how to sign from here =.=