And the clock ticked by...
It’s like you are trapped. Like the four walls have closed you in. Eating you from the inside. The walls are not here. No body is.
You are.
Just by yourself watching the clock tick by.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock … bam
There it is.
Nothing. Just the numb sound of the clock ticking and here we are watching
No television with reality show.
No life passing you by.
No telephones offering you a credit card.
No whore on the filthy fungi filled mattress of a cheap motel.
Just you.
Just you in the middle nowhere. Some where. Anywhere.
Why me? You could ask. But after the initial years you are too numb to even ask.
Its just matter of time they say, and the clock ticks by.
You can turn around. You aren’t going to find anything anyway.
Its just the same.
A cynical man talking to himself within the walls that are eating him from the inside.
Jack the Rabbit they used to call him. He had fluffy gingerly hair and light eyes. May be his mother fornicated with a firaang they whispered behind his head. But he heard them alright. He always did.
One late night out side an obscure drunken bar he met her.
She was haggard. She wore red lipstick and he needed company.
So it happened. In a filthy motel room where the light kept flickering. It was there he found out.
He was being eaten out alive.
Day in and day out the clock went tick tock tick tock… inside his head the walls became clearer.
The credit card companies kept calling.
The television blared out the reality show that turned the new model into a slut.
And the walls cornered him inch by inch scratching their nails on the chalkboard of his head. He shuddered at the sound of her nails. Like a lunatic staring and screaming at nothing. He wanted to scream inside. He cried. He screamed. He ran. He banged himself against the walls.
Until there was nothing left to do.
He was numb.
Not dead but numb. On a wheelchair staring at the clock go tick tock tick tock in the state asylum.
Blissful as he watched the clock tick by.
Tick tock tick tock.
You are.
Just by yourself watching the clock tick by.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock … bam
There it is.
Nothing. Just the numb sound of the clock ticking and here we are watching
No television with reality show.
No life passing you by.
No telephones offering you a credit card.
No whore on the filthy fungi filled mattress of a cheap motel.
Just you.
Just you in the middle nowhere. Some where. Anywhere.
Why me? You could ask. But after the initial years you are too numb to even ask.
Its just matter of time they say, and the clock ticks by.
You can turn around. You aren’t going to find anything anyway.
Its just the same.
A cynical man talking to himself within the walls that are eating him from the inside.
Jack the Rabbit they used to call him. He had fluffy gingerly hair and light eyes. May be his mother fornicated with a firaang they whispered behind his head. But he heard them alright. He always did.
One late night out side an obscure drunken bar he met her.
She was haggard. She wore red lipstick and he needed company.
So it happened. In a filthy motel room where the light kept flickering. It was there he found out.
He was being eaten out alive.
Day in and day out the clock went tick tock tick tock… inside his head the walls became clearer.
The credit card companies kept calling.
The television blared out the reality show that turned the new model into a slut.
And the walls cornered him inch by inch scratching their nails on the chalkboard of his head. He shuddered at the sound of her nails. Like a lunatic staring and screaming at nothing. He wanted to scream inside. He cried. He screamed. He ran. He banged himself against the walls.
Until there was nothing left to do.
He was numb.
Not dead but numb. On a wheelchair staring at the clock go tick tock tick tock in the state asylum.
Blissful as he watched the clock tick by.
Tick tock tick tock.
posted by sorceress insence at 4:27 AM
2 Comments:
Numbness can be a worse death than the finality of actual death.
exactly what I wanted to say. :)
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