My Unstable Poetry

(ode to) clocks

- thanks my self depreciating fam for 2.6k reads!!! ^.^- (this is a free verse sorry I'm not one for rhyme scheme) this is also one of my personal favs that I've written

Ode to Clocks
Your hands tick down my hours into minutes and minutes into mere seconds
They count down my thoughts that drown me
like your numbers that swarm around my head like a tornado
This tornado is a metaphor for what goes on in my head that destroys my passage ways and makes me stop
Blank-eyed, wide-eyed, which one am I
My head is a calculator with the tornado swarming about throwing digits and numbers all around
After those hours and minutes a spring hits my frontal lobe and the clock hits 9,10,11,12 all at once
Bam!- the storm of cold air hits now
This tornado in my head and cold air by my bed, is not helping my clock
My clock still ticks down even when my body cannot move
It does not feel my groove, this is not what I expected teenage life to be
Full of
The tornado shoves everything away- just focus on what you don't have and you'll be okay
A gun and a trigger is an object a clock can count down, a quiet room with no one but my breathing and I
Uh-oh the cold air is what I breathe I developed it in my sleep I take a daily intake of what I need
The air is like a package to me, unpack some everyday and you'll be okay
Okay or not you never will be your clock is just a fictional thing so why does it matter this much why are you thinking these things why do you use things as ideas are these ideas any help is this the intake I asked for and why during class why couldn't this happen while sipping out of a glass but I guess the clock must have kept ticking, the ticking counts down my hours into minutes, minutes into mere seconds, and the time till the trigger