Swings to the left with a click.
To the right with a clop,
like a horse trotting its galloping tick tock.
The pendulum rocks to and fro.
From where we've been,
the clock sounds
its constant steady cadent,
to where we go.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Each one, a hand on deaths door,
Knocking. Each one a hand pounding,
the sounding of a starters gun.
Waiting for the skeletal hand to answer.
One day he will for sure.
We should probably
stop the clocks and run,
but then, stopping the clocks
would bring a fate worse than death...
Tickkk. The clock sticks
for a beat. The world shivers.
Knowing that forever is in retreat,
that whenever is on her knees,
and someday is sat expecting the end
at anytime it pleases.
The shimmery sight which greets eyes,
that look upon this misty street,
would bring fear to their hearts.
If at that second the clock
didn’t tock once more.
Making the sight depart,
before it had the chance,
to tear the world apart at its core.
A stopped clock causes the world
to shimmer, fade and fizzle.
Shiver and quiver.
A stopped clock unleashes terror,
the likes of which
can't be written on paper.
The armies of the unmoved hand,
the memory erasing
hounds of chronology,
with fangs that fast forward
and rewind at the very same time.
It brings the unconscious monstrosities,
hidden deep within the cracks of time.
Where they have existed
ever since the cracks were formed,
on the very morning
when time first dawned.
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelling
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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