Clocks Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

To the mist and the light,
Inside the days passed on nights
Maybe it’s time to try something
As potent as suicide

As I chase the impasse,
I stagger on the crevasse
Where the veins are as red as
Your hands

Time, my vessel
Learning to walk is my way back to the sea
Of metal alloys and decrepit skin
I am as empty as a chasm

Reservoir spills
Dissipating across the trellis
How many days would it take to end,
At the hands of whirring clocks?