Freeing feelings with writers block as thoughts rip from mind, and emotions from soul
Freeing feelings as echoed tick-tock, tick-tock, (tick-tock, tick-tock) until 4 o’clock beckons yawning,
As day is dawning, as night is no more, as darkness slowly demises… birdsong fills the early atmosphere

And so, preparation of teeth and face. Visions upon eyelids which hold the weight of twenty hours missing in a mind which balances awkwardly upon the paper-thin line between lost the will, and found the way

Crumble, crumble, crumble, crumble – wilting weed stumbles back to flower bed, lays down its lazy daisy head, conserves energy until magnifying glass and feel of fire engulf its short slumber
Last words are written in black ash and gray smoke – “I am not a number”

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