as the clock ticks one more second astray
till no more seconds left in the clockspring.
the shrapnel of time ricochetting
from the emptiness of my eyes
and wasting away through the holes
of dark matter.
yet, I won’t get up from my dusty chair,
I’ll keep counting through my sooty window
casted to the South birds,
by the approaching winter.
“Hickory dickory dock, tick tock, tick tock…”