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