Monday, 29 May 2017

Time | A Poem

Original Picture Credit


Time ticks by and lets us bleed.

In pools, it collects the blood, pours it into miniature glass vials,
Each person labeled and stored,
Placed up, on a shelf, high above
The crystal winking at the collector
In sheer glee
Laughing at the dents in the souls
That still lingered in each red blood cell,
Waiting for them to explode,
A ticking time bomb,
Gloopy, dark, congealed
On the cracked work surface –

Dripping from the stained wood,
Beaten and worn
Clotted.

One drop contains a hundred snorted laughs
Over coffee shop catch-ups,
Ten blushed-smiles from across the room,
Barely able to meet eyes.

Too many goodbyes to count,
Each as painful as the other, stabbing me in the eye again and again
Splintering the skull, crumbling the brain
As each neuron splits from its neighbor
And jumps away,
Throws itself off the cliff landing, crunching onto the rocks underneath,
The ones with white-horses cantering over its jagged top,
The pink bloody mush strewn across the rock-face
To be torn apart by starving seagulls
Ripping, gulping, screeching
As they aim for their wobbling food
As it crawls into the sea, and drifts
Further downwards – spiraling
Spiraling
Spiraling
Out of control
So that the salt darkness
Climbs into every crack and pore,

Waiting for something to filter it out.
When it’s stuck there.

A piece of gum under an initial-scratched exam desk
That welded there during the sweaty summer boredom,
Listening to the clip-clop of invigilator heels,
Patrolling through your manufactured intelligent thrown into an answer sheet,
Staring at the clock for the final

Tick.


Tick.



If you liked this post you might like: Je Suis Epuisée | A Poem