Potential

I can hear the clock ticking... tick tock, tick tock...

What are you doing, where are you going, who are you? The questions swirl inside my head creating a vine of ambiguity.
The more I try to untangle the vine the more it intertwines.

Tick tock, tick tock...

Slow down clock, can we pause for a moment and figure this thing out?

Tick tock....

The clock I hear is a broken record of repetition on par with Poe's Raven, taking me gently by the hand and leading me to the edge of sanity.

I will not be controlled by you father time, I'm the boss on this boat and when I feel like dropping anchor, I will; without your permission.

I will figure it out. I just need more time.

Tick tock...

I can feel the sand sliding down the center of the hour glass attempting to force me into despair.

Tick tock...

Maybe the clock is right; maybe I am squandering precious time "finding myself". Maybe there is no "myself" and I have been indoctrinated by culture to believe I have a purpose in a society that is so far outside of my acceptability that I am just another poor sap walking in place on my way to the slaughter.

If that happens to be the case I hope I don't go silently. I hope I squirm, fight, and squeal loud enough to drown out the tick tock of father time. If I do not... well than I have failed myself and possibly others.

Tick tock, tick tock...

Peaces and Creases
TBN