There is a violence to telling time
The winding up
The counting down
The second hand stomping around
Yelling
And slamming itself into the next
Black…hash…mark
A metronome
Except
For its massacre of pushing past
That last moment
Left too soon
Gone and dead
A constant monster moving
Without flinching
Stalking and continuing
To echo aching in my head
Maniacally compelling me
TO
HUR
RY
UP
AND
GET
THINGS
DONE
It’s too damned late
I sat so long and stupidly
Shocked still
By what’s in front of me
I should have moved
And acted quick
Before the final
TOCK
and
TICK
-a.r.
sometimesihatemycat 