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Clockwork

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Hips sway like a sybaritic pendulum,
Thoughts tick, tick, ticking,
The product of a thousand splendid gears,
Turning like brass whirligigs, but always
Tick, tick, ticking.

Hands chasing each other in an endless circle,
Hearts, tick, tick, ticking,
Singing the industrial song of mechanized mockingbirds.
Chirping their song to the soulless night, and always
Tick, tick, ticking.

Eyes, a perfect anchor, the epicenter of time,
Tick, tick, ticking away.
Glazed over like December morning,
Frozen in nonpareil torment, with all around them
Tick, tick, ticking.

Smiles straighten in an industrialized smirk,
Tick, tick, ticking into place.
A mechanical bemusement,
Traced with the metallic taste of hope,
Tick, tick, ticking like clockwork.



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