tick tock.

i am too restless to sleep.

Rachmaninoff is playing in the background

it is 4:00am

the clock replies

before i’ve even had a chance to ask.

tick tock.

screams the ennui

screams the insomnia

screams the empty bottle of whisky next to me

lying there

useless and beautiful.

tick tock.

Rachmaninoff crescendos into

something

something that he makes me long for

something that i wish i was able

to make other people long for too.

something that

something.

tick tock.

is the sound of the liquid draining

as i take a long swig from epiphany

from the bottle of vodka i had forgotten about

until now.

tick tock.

Rachmaninoff segues into Op. 30 “Alla Breve”

the piano longs for the strings

the winds long for the brass

yet all i long for is sleep.

tick tock.

more vodka more inebriation

more inebriation more fatigue

until sleep is finally able to take me

is what is supposed to happen

is my rationality.

if only.

tick tock.

i take another drink.

now the vodka is half empty.

i feel good.

i feel happy.

i feel

everything but tired.

fuck.

tick tock.

screams the mocking clock.

the brass section enters at last

Rachmaninoff crescendos once more

the angry denouement approaches

in my head i can see the conductor sweating

i can see the solo trumpet about to have an aneurysm

tick tock.

drowns out the blaring euphoniums

drowns out the screeching trombones

drowns out the melancholy of the crickets

outside my window

outside this feeling

outside.

tick tock.

it asks.

glug glug

i reply.

tick tock.

Rachmaninoff finishes

the vodka lies empty

i can shamelessly admit

i am drunk.

tick tock.

i am too drunk to care.

too drunk retaliate

too drunk to sleep.

tick tock.

tick tock.

the nausea is nothing

i am nothing

nothing is anything

tick tock.

screams the fucking clock.

4:01am.

tick. fucking. tock.

The sky is blue,

the birds are singing,

the flowers are blooming,

I am alone.

The tree's have full foliage,

the birds now have children,

the sweet sent of pollen wafts through the air,

and I am alone.

The trees are changing,

fruit is ripening

the flowers stopped blowing,

I am alone.

The sky is dark,

the trees are bare,

the birds have flown away,

and I am truly,

Alone.

and so the saying goes,

ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

we exist and survive, 

surrounded by the company

of others. 

we fill our earthly needs of 

wealth and love 

and more and more and more, 

yet when Death shows 

her lovely face, 

there is no amount of love 

or hate or money 

that will convince her not to take you.

In life, the only thing one can truly

count on the be there on time is

Death.

ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

Why does it have to be like this?

I need just a few more words, one more kiss.

I wish I could be far away from now.

But I don't know when and I don't know how. 

I used to have that love that makes your eyes shine.

I was his and he was mine. 

But our time passed and he had to leave.

He flies with angels, and I struggle to breathe.

And as I silently break every night.

I recall our love. I recall our fights.

I wait in the darkness for my time to arrive.

I wonder if anybody even hears my cries.

The loneliness seeps in, like ink onto skin.

I'll never be whole unless I'm with him.

Why does it have to be like this?

I need just a few more words, one more kiss.