Clockwork

There’s no planet on my shoulders

Or monkey on my back.  Something

Else has fused itself onto my spine.

The universe and irony have welded on

A gigantic clock to weigh me down.

Each tic blares to deafen just a little more

And take another precious piece of sanity away.

One O’Clock I’ve lost a friend.

Two O’Clock, I hear her voice.

Three O’Clock, I’m left with silence.

Four O’Clock, I crave the noise.

Five O’Clock, was that a scream?

Six O’Clock, it’s only tears.

Seven O’Clock, it’s getting dark.

Eight O’Clock, I need a drink.

Nine O’Clock, I’ve drank it all.

Ten O’Clock, there’s nothing left.

Eleven O’Clock, I hit the floor.

Twelve O’Clock I’ve lost myself.