time is an enemy, not a friend
listen to the ticks of the clock growing faint
and wonder where it all went wrong–
somewhere along the line, the ever-turning gears
lost their motivation to spin
feel the hollowness amass into a vacuum,
watch the black hole tear you apart:
to be or not to be
or to be and feel like you don’t know how to be
can you still see the stars through your jaded eyes?
or is it only the reflection;
the lights bouncing off your empty stare
it’s a memory of what used to be and
you just can’t twist time back enough
so you grab the hands of the clock and turn forwards,
thrash against the cogs because your life depends on it,
force the time ahead with every unwilling blink
bare legs writhing against the blankets as fabric twists around you,
wringing at your skin like a noose
smell the toxin of coffee seep into your nostrils,
a bitter reality that refuses to let you fade away
and if counting sheep won’t help you sleep,
then stay awake and count the flashes in your eyes:
the burned memories of stars you can no longer see
wait for new stars to blossom in their place
until the night is not an enemy but a friend
