You watch the number on the digital clock
gyrate a teasing dance that burns your eyes
and you can feel every second that ticks by
in the tightness of your skull and the
dryness of your eyes.
Your body screams at you
for not being able to do a perfect imitation
of a corpse but
Your brain is not catching the memo to slow down
Your, brain is not catching the memo to slow down the
Memo to slow down the
Me-mo, to slow down
Lie the hell down and sleep!
Like that thing you do when the day has been
Kicking your butt from 7:00am to 3:00 am
That, thing you do when the sun goes down and
people stop imitating action cartoons and take on
the likeness of marionettes,
Dancing on the strings the Sandman has laced
through his fickle little fingers but your
strings have been cut...
And so you slump on the shelf of wakefulness,
watching those around you droop like sun-roasted daises,
closing their buds to the stars and opening to the morning air
but despite the position of the sun in the sky your
petals are wilting.
You stand parallel to a zombie and
no matter how much you tell yourself to just sleep,
no matter how many times you wrestle your body horizontal and
tug up the covers
lid creaking closed on an old weathered casket
your eyes, remain open.
Your brain doesn't slow down
and you listen to the tittering echoes of the seconds tick by,
like anvils on your conscience,
weighing down your limbs and
your sense and your concentration,
The hands of time mounting an hour glass to your back
which you carry and never put down
simply listen to the whispers of the sand
that you are forbidden to touch.
Put down your hourglass, Night Walker.
Silence the seconds that pass
they cannot touch you;
your thoughts are infinite,
be captured by tiny, pestering digits of time.
be held down by ravenous numerals
and the sun,
does not determine the stillness of your body so
Put down your hour glass night walker.
It isn't yours anymore.
Put down, the hour glass night walker,