No Longer Rituals

Ticking of a clock in Silence,

As the rush of footsteps near.

A gale-like sigh

Slams the door shut.

A graceful lunge causes

The satin sheets to ripple like water.

Ticking of a clock in Chaos,

A desecrated heart beats like a stampede,

While a fierce stare vibrates the dry-wall.

The crackling of fire as brain synapses burn out.

Bone cracking pressure of burden and desire,

Ruffling through damp sheets as melatonin malfunctions.

Ticking of a clock in Stupor,

Lamp stand crashing, light bulb bursting,

Stumbling over a clutter of clothes

As solace is sought through the

Clapping of thighs with an undesirable

Woman found at a bar.

Ticking of a clock in Survival,

A flick of the light switch signals war.

As apathy and hedonism pump through a television,

A lone tear roars like Niagara.

Birds singing as a reminder of life,

A common whisper, "Alright, you can do this."

The clock stops ticking.

The rumbling of yellow paint

Deafens the gray coat

Underneath.