Clocks

old-clock-of-hand-1419071

There are clocks in the room

Tick

Tock

Ticking clocks

All over the walls

And in my ears

 

In

Perfect

Unison

 

You’d know that wouldn’t you? Need-for-perfection, everything-in-order,

never-running-late. Anyone would think it were a fetish, freak-of-nature.

 

Think they’re on time?

 

What do you think?

 

Wouldn’t know. My watch isn’t in sync.

Always was a useless timekeeper

 

Then shut your mouth

And listen,

I’m the conductor

They’re my orchestra

Tick

Tock

Perfect Symphony

 

Just sounds like drums to me, drumming in my head, repetition

Counting down the minutes, seconds, till the next disaster

Crocodile,

Swimming nearer

Tick

Tock

Tick

 

Now you’re just teasing. You make me feel sick. Perfectionist

I’m no psychiatrist, but I’d say a cog’s gone loose in your head

 

Could say the same

Of

You

 

Then let’s not talk. I could do with some peace, away from you

And your clocks and your chatter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why’s it gone quiet?

 

Clock is broken.

Fuck

 

 

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