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Clocks

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Tick Tock the sound of my creeping death
Tick Tock another second gone
A minute wasted towards meaninglessness
My heart beat is quite and contained in my chest
Each movment of the clock hands rings out resonating in my head
Only when the blood rushes fast so that colors sharpen and my nerves itch
When the vein near my ear is pulsing
Only when the blood comes hard is the sound of life circling away drowned out
Tick Tock another moment
Tick Tock another minute
Tick Tock another year
Only when im alive do i forget death
But the clock keeps tick lest i forget for too long
In a quite patch of earth
The grass interrupted only by marble and granite and sand stone
I will hear the last ticks
strapped to wrists of those who will stand for me when I've gone





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