The Clock

I have no time for thinking or imagining a better future and a better life.. to rely on the self made man and seek for material success.. Time stops.. I’ve just break the clock.. It was striking midnight or noon.. I don’t really care.. I have cut down the dilution of time.. I don’t need it.. I want to give words to my fears, my depression and my numbness.. Staring at faces that night makes me weird.. Some are unfamiliar but everyone seems happy.. Help me to stay alive.. This loneliness kills me.. haunts me.. tears me apart.. I’m an unread book.. A book filled with dust and with a disorganized plot.. I’m a black book locked in a black box.. A book torn by children.. disregarded by adults and scorned by young fellows..