minutes on the clock as the hands spin round. hands, funny thing to tell the time. hands only feel. can you feel time? time is an empty thing really, it’s nothing if you don’t use it wisely. just a ticking sound. Tick Tick Tick in my brain. pounding and vibrating. it hurts, oh god it hurts when I don’t use time the way I should. it laughs at me, sitting here, watching the hands spin round. melancholy laughter. ‘you’re wasting me, what’s the point in me if I’m wasted?’. mock me if you want. please stop pounding.
hands stretch from the walls to suck at me and stars fall like razors as the day hides itself from the sky. i feel them. i feel them all inside of me. hands pulling at my ribs and poking at my guts like they’re some curious thing. but i still sit here, the clock mocking me in melancholy. staring down, its eyes just numbers painted on.
how can time hurt me so? they’re just minutes on a clock. i think its me hurting myself you know. time is just the anchor weighing me down. sometimes the things weighing you down are in your head. but the pounding and vibrating still hurts.
the internet is boring on the weekends. it seems everyone has more of a life than me.
acosmist - one who believes that nothing exists
paralian - a person who lives near the sea
aureate - pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets
dwale - to wander about deliriously
sabaism - the worship of stars
dysphoria - an unwell feeling
aubade - a love song which is sung at dawn
eumoirous - happiness due to being honest and wholesome
mimp - to speak in a prissy manner, usually with pursed lips