The second-hand carousels, corralling all manner of creatures within range of its focus.
Not alarmed by the alarm that shatters the silence of my surroundings, while muting the chaos of my thoughts.
You say I am a time bomb! I thought it was established. I’m not ticking.
Muffled mutations chime, constructing intelligibility. Sitting in silence amid my crescendo.
A conductor’s symphony racketeers an intruders thoughts. The merry-go-round rides me. The saddled beasts imparting ticks. Not my tick, monster’s ticks.
I’m not ticking. Wave riding creatures attempt to periodically curtail my fuse.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Expressions ricochet monotony.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Out of reach yet within earshot.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Lifelines within a circumference.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Faces etched with occasions inevitability.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Surroundings painted in echo.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Framing our existence.
Tick Tick tick. Each chime is one less.
Tick. Time has no deadline, yet its demise yields certain death.