This clock has no hands

The indecision of the answer weighs on your shoulders like the world

and the question hasn't even been asked yet.

The scales are tipping.

Time is r-u--n---n----i-----n------g out.

It doesn't have to be asked. There's no point in it, anyway. The matter doesn't lie in the question, only the answer.

Either way, in the end, it won't be our problem. It's not our fault, because kids will be kids will be kids will be kids will be kids will be [we're just] kids.

If I had a pen of my own, I'd drain it

You sinksanksunk your knife into the sentence, and I watched as you cut the words and stabbed the letters. Everything went silent when you killed the conversation. Screams fell into whispers which faded into the air.

You sinksanksunk your teeth into the hour, and I watched as you chewed up the minutes, and swallowed the seconds. Everything went motionless when you consumed the clock. Time slowed and stilled and stopped.


But after it all,
Our hearts still race and rush,
And our tongues still taste and touch.

Scrawled with sharpie on scraps of notebook paper

Fire follows the fuse,
and you're burning along with the bridge.

Sever ties and,
Break communication and,
Destroy liasons and,

and then you're on your way.

You can grab a bigger one down the line

Maybe it was my fault the first time you took the bait, (I should've known better) but that second hole in your cheek means you learn (think) too slow

-and burn (react) too fast.

I was wa(o)ndering ar(b)ound(t) how timid you first were, and what changed your mind.

Why yell now? Why do you scream? I read all your words, but what do they mean? I know it's in lowercase and only CAPITALS! seem like screaming here, but I can(') t(y)ell.

I wander through and around, inside and out your semantics, diagrams and schematics. You're planning something, I can see it in your boldfacedlies, and the words you italicize. Could the truth be straight and narrow, as easy to follow as your (under)lines and strikes?

Dot dot dot

Wondering, wandering, repeating and

(suddenly!)

ending.

Bruises and teethmarks; don't wait for a reply

Oh, and I'm still hiding behind blackveils? Caught in the lip by my own metaphors, dragged out of the water with gills burning and fins flapping.

Oh, and I'm still choking on the cloudedvision? Shovels and claws didn't get me deep enough, I gu(digr)ess.

Oh, and I'm still trapped inside the funhousemirrors? Unable to see past my own reflection, but never getting sick of my own face.


Well I've got a story to tell to tell to tell (do tell).

- - -- - - -- -- - - __ -- - -- - -_----- - - - - - -

And I crawled out of the ground where the dirt met the roots at the trunk of the tree. Rebirth. (Some would say the next life.) Peering into the night, I saw one thing: the shadows. Cloakinghidingmasking everything. Softening details that in the daylight would be too harsh to gaze upon. And in this gaze I learned that all I wanted to do was become one of them. So I crawled over the ground, scraping my stomach on the leaves and sticks and dirt, to the darkest of the shadows.

I sunk myself deep inside the darkness and I became the shadow. I melted out of my physical form into the air itself. I became the night. Free to roam to hunt to follow.

I roamed through the trees, sliding from leaf to branch to trunk.

I hunted the birds, flying across the ground. I hunted the beasts, filling their tracks before their feet had left them.

I followed every footstep of every animal, every sway of every branch, sliding over the dirt in every shadow.