The house is a sleeping beast
breathing on my back;
It speaks to me in whispers—
drip-drops from faucet leaks,
and little creaks from dark corners;
they echo in the hollows of my ears—
like stone thrown
in the depths of a well,
sounding and resounding
like my thoughts do:
incessant in their mindless chatter;
they work in clockwork precision
tick tock tick tock tick tock
so these dreary eyes
tick tock tick tock
tremble with dread
tick tock
tremble
tick
and dread
tock
the sight of the beast
finally walking
the light of a new day
August
3 years ago