Ticking Away
Dawg
There’s a sound trapped within my head,
the haunted rhythm of a metronome
echoing between my ears —
present for me alone.
Signaling the passage of time
in measured ebbs and linear flows,
the rhythm of my own pulse beating
as each day comes and goes.
Constant ticking inside my skull,
never-ceasing percussion —
comforting and disconcerting
when I feel how time is rushing.
Every rise and fall inside my ribs
matched by the equal measure of that sound.
Every breath another tick
as my life becomes unwound.
I swore the sound would last forever.
I thought the ticking would always last.
Now I’m staring into the never,
looking straight down at my past.
I lived marching to some alternative drummer’s beat.
Failure is not an option.
There’s no glory in defeat.
Every day pushing harder
for some goal in a distant time,
never once looking around
at the fragmented life of mine.
No time to settle down.
To love. To live. To learn.
No pleasure in sitting back
just to watch the candles burn.
Days and nights passed as one
confused and tangled thing,
fading into the never worlds,
lost in their eternity.
The steady rhythm has faded away
and the beating finally stopped.
The only sound I hear now
is soil settling on my box.
Left in silent retrospect
of every day that came before,
the soul left without its rhythm,
trapped here forever more.
I swore I lived my life so clever.
I thought I could escape the fates.
Now I’m lying buried beneath the heather,
learning much too late.
No light fills my habitat.
I wish I’d appreciated what I got.
Filled with icy cold regrets
when the ticking finally stops.