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Saturday, September 29, 2012

I have lived inside a clock –

My spine was cramped
And I sucked on empty oxygen
Got sick from it, had nothing to regurgitate
Except for tears which didn’t flow
And fear I didn’t feel
Instead I retreated into my dark, slick interior
Where were my flesh and soul, the same

Thought the ticking would drive me mad.
But the ticking was my heartbeat
My heartbeat drove me mad
And I was cramped,

And what must have been outside
Was not an ocean—not the world
It was.
Was what? I asked
It was.

Thought the cold would drive me mad
Thought the sunsets of my breaths, would drive me mad
Wondered if I indeed was mad
I was; therefore sane
My sanity drove me mad

I entertained thoughts of escape
Cursed everything and nothing, and my escape
Till I peeled myself off the clockwork
To find my spine was made of gears
And my heart was,
And my disbelieving fingertips

Only then did I leave—and was gone
It was. I was not.

And nothing drove me mad


Bookish.Spazz said...


Abby K said...

Wow. I love this. The concept is really imaginative and, as always, you have a penchant for unique phrases that stick in the mind.
My first impression was to suggest that you take out the last line and leave it with "It was. I was not." but upon second thought, the last line makes sense in context. But I still really like "It was. I was not." You could think about reworking it to put that line in a stronger position, I suppose, but it's also a stellar poem as-is. :)