Fanatical Wrist watcher.


Fanatical Wrist watcher!      

My body is

covered in ticks,
sucking my

lifeblood away daily,
they bug me as

they crawl in
large circles biting

in precise increments
leaving telltale marks

upon my aging flesh.


I have spent too

much time in secondhand stores
wasting minutes on yesterdays
others have disposed of,
even as a child

time consumed me...

My parents once asked me
what I wanted

for Christmas,
and I said,

" I wanna watch."
so they let me.

My therapist simply

tocks psycho-babble,
her face numbered by her
patience wearing thin.

I am Charlie Chaplin

hanging on the little hand,
somewhere between five and six,
it's a long drop into eternity
where there is no time,
perhaps I should embrace it,
but then alarms

go off in my head
and my over-sized Rolex's
prevents any

slitting of my wrist
so I reset my

time here on earth
mixing my salad

years in a calendar,
colander whatever

does the trick
and move on

racing the clock,
trying to capture what's lost
and slow it down,
catch a breath.

But my very pulse is
sixty beats
per second,
it's even in my flesh,
this damned pace
that controls all,
time is the victor
and I am just a notch
on it's many

endless pauses
as it sweeps on by
in it's Arc De Triumph
over my affliction.



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