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| Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. The clock laughs in my face ha ha ha ha ha. Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick. The seconds passing by, yet time is nearly stopped. The only sanity left is that of the salty, irritating, corrosive sweat pouring and pouring yet draining and drowning. To see her face is all I need TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK. The sun rising and setting, setting and rising, sinking and sinking, and yet I am still thinking. Consumed by that tick, TICK TICKITY TICK TICK. He�s still laughing on the wall ha ha ha ha ha. My face is now beet red, for the hours which I dread, the waiting, and wanting, and hating, and haunting. In a distant room you can here the jazz bass ba doom doom doom doom doom ba doom. Yet the tick is still here and it�s overpowering all of my fears, bundled up in to one, not burning like the sun, but burning like my heart. Tick ba doom TICK ba doom Tick ba doom TICK BA DOOM. The hour is here, it has finally come. After many tearing, wearing, and torn hours. Walking down the halls, tumbling down the stairs, drinking all my rum, knowing that no one cares is the process of waiting in dire straights. But it is finally here! I can now put away all of the TICK TICK, and enjoy the ba doom ba doom. But I know that that old dirty old clock laughs violently from the other room. Time is a real life, hands on the throat, knife in the eye, gun in my hand, killer. | ||||