“If people were like clocks
That never died
I’d like to go deaf
Because I cannot hear the
“Tick tock tick tock”
Of all the people around me
All my life.”
On nights like this
I wish I was never born.
But since I am drowning in poetry
That speaks the language of reality
I wish I died before the sun came up
Because I’m running out of metaphors and nouns.
My walls are dark grey,
I am talking about clocks and people
But it has nothing to say
I think I’m dumb
Because I need answers
But I’m running out of voice and
I know that,
I wouldn’t need answers
If I never asked questions,
“Like clocks wouldn’t need hands
If they didn’t have numbers.”
There’s a clock on the wall on my right.
It’s hands look like people’s eyes
Rotating around rumors and lies.
And keenly observing
What I do through the day.
I wish I was blind
Because I cannot watch
The clocks looking at what I write and
Dying all of a sudden.
I don’t feel sorry for them
Because they blame me for their death.
I sucked inside my mouth,
The power of their batteries,
With my poetry.
(I was running out of voice, you know?)
And they are waiting for their gods,
To buy them new ones.
That’s what clocks and people do.
And you think it’s strange?
One, two, three, four and so on
Never ending like
The visions I get.
Like numbers scribbled on clocks.
The last number you see is twelve
But do you count the “tick tocks”?
Count them as well and
You’ll find how clocks look like faces of people
That you see in crowds you push yourself through every day,
Faces that you see in your visions
And under the sheets that you sleep on.
Listen to what the clocks have to say.
TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK
Oh dear! I wish I was deaf.
This poem was inspired by another one of my poems – “Sunlight and poetry.”
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