“Someday I’ll fly away, leave all this to yesterday”
When the din breaks,
And there is silence
I hear it:
The ticking of the clock,
The ticking of this heart of mine,
It thumps and it shakes,
My chest holding the mix of flesh, marble and mud—
Yet it may not be enough for this restless, angst filled thud.
Suddenly the little muscle knows,
That lying, napping, snoring,
In this room filled with clothes,
Is not enough.
And it struggles to escape—
Though there seems to be nothing more on this barren, suburban landscape.
Heart meets head, blood meets thought,
And roots give way to shoots
Ideas grow-
But hit a wall,
When opportunity fails to knock.
Tick.
Tock
Voices go silent,
TVs go dead
IPods are charging…
My limbs fill with lead.
When the din breaks,
These ticks make quakes…
And my eyes open to a world that has yet to bloom,
And I see:
I am but a teenager, staring at the ceiling in my room.
Tick.
Tick.
Recognition arrives, and a panic subsides:
This canvas lies blank,
Waiting for one clutch yank-
To pull it-
Drag it-
Into the universe.
But there is time yet, for my shenanigans.
A whole world lies beyond,
Waiting for me.
