Clocks and people.

“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,

Gloomy. Hideous.

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.

Listen.

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK

Oh dear! I wish I was deaf.

Or dead.

 

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This poem was inspired by another one of my poems – “Sunlight and poetry.”

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