The Clock

Racing against the tick & tock of the indefinite watch of the hand that paces in perfect circle around the shape of the hour that is so unmoved. While each tick after tock infringes on your right & ability to stand as still as the shape of each hour that is so... flat & straight from bumps being driven over & over; now so...ungroved. Freedom of life awaits no one & nothing! The sounds of scurried feet echo off the walls so loud from all the unmonitored shuffling! Movement of each foot closes the space that left a pocket of air for you to breathe a breath to feed your life. While the patter quickens, & echos roar, infringing upon that freedom your life has long awaited...