Pushing through the air,
Like Saran Wrap, it clings
To my tongue.
Gripping the hands on the clock
With the edges of my mind.
Rolling my body out
Onto the edge of an abyss.
Looking down, my reflection
Is captured, and swallowed whole.
Swinging back and forth,
Sitting on a pendulum.
Counting the echoing ticks
Of the grandfather clock.
When will I be free
From slavery to time?
Stumbling along the sidewalk 