He tells me 'Time doesn't exist, only clock does'.
I look at his ageing face,
his acne raising like volcanoes,
hiding the rage that burns the core inside,
secreting mucus,
like all tears have been strangled to death.
All that remains is a face, bereft of life.
Sometimes, I look into those defeated eyes,
searching for the clock.
I look at his ageing face,
his acne raising like volcanoes,
hiding the rage that burns the core inside,
secreting mucus,
like all tears have been strangled to death.
All that remains is a face, bereft of life.
Sometimes, I look into those defeated eyes,
searching for the clock.