Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Tik Tok...

At the border between night and early morning, the sky is painted in the darkest greys, watery lines drawn over shiny see through glass, throwing sun shines like spears. Holes stitched one over the other, nails and pins forgotten deep down and now getting cold and hurting from inside out, eyes opening to it… trained silence to avoid the deafening sound of uttered thoughts, studied behaviours… The ticking of the clock once kept drops of chance in it, used to it everyday, nobody noticed that it has stopped long ago and now what you’re hearing is only its echo. You are wonderful… too late.