tick tock
the big and little hand in you heart is almost to that time where your clock stops

look at us. just a sack full of emotions looking for release.
yes… we tread life and create emotional blisters
looking for some hot needle of insight to pop it

isn’t it sad we never really know what we want?
the need is there, but not the awareness
so we hurt ourselves in different ways until we get an emotional response

but suffering builds character, right?
no pain, no gain
what does not kill us, only makes us etc etc
throw enough cliche phrases around,
and at least you can pretend the world relates to you

tick tock
do i feel this because I recognize my age? my mortality?
or is this just a twisting line of growing logic?
sprouting gnarled branches grasping for the sky?

or is it the third glass of wine?
or is it 3 a.m.?
the time where it is impossible to feel any other way