Justin Garcia


The Clocks - Poem by Justin Garcia

The clock I've been watching has stopped. My times up, time to change my batteries. Mom, I know you don't approve, but know I truly do love you, so please just don't be mad at me. I'm living passively, half my life I lived bastardly. I think I'm going mad, you see. Feel like I've hit insanity. I hold the pen, feel like I've got a grasp on it, but then I look down, and this pen and pad just laugh at me. Is this a dream? It HAS to be. I've got the right direction, but I'm running low on gasoline. Tick, tock....times passing me. It's the one thing in this world I can't get back and all I've done is trashed it, see? The clocks are in my view, now they're just surrounding me. My dreams have no wings, my thoughts alone have grounded me. My mind is wide awake, but my voice is sound asleep. I cannot speak, but only see, this shithole that is drowning me. This self-inflicting, damaging, life-neglecting detainee is only me, but the me I truly never hoped to be. It grows in me, substantially. I close my eyes and I can hear a faint heartbeat. Now I feel it start to breathe. I open my eyes now so I can see.....my grandpa standing next to me. As abstract as I have ever seen, he tells me things so I can breathe just a little bit more easily. And now I lay, about to sleep, this hole I've dug, is not so deep. I take a look at my clock and see, my grandpa, sleeping, peacefully.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 17, 2012



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